The Not Yet Requested Copy
by Elenhin
Summary: Faramir seems to know every language that has ever been spoken, and that makes for many confusing situations as he demonstrates his skills. New chapters have been aded, but the title remains the same in honour of the first chapter.
1. The Not Yet Requested Copy

Author's Note: This is a bit of a joke that I wrote with the help of a friend. We thought that Faramir was skilled at different languages, and wondered just what languages he could speak.

Trying to think of as many as possible, and writing a story on each. Some languages will be from Lord of the Ring, some will not, but we will name them and where they come from. So Have no fear

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Ring, I only borrow parts of it and shall return them as soon as I am done. Completely undamaged, as I am certain it will be impossible to see where we glued the pieces back together.

Now, please read this, 'ehurm', masterful work, or whatever it is. I do however hope you enjoy it.

The Not Yet Requested Copy.

Council meetings was always tedious, and this was no ordinary meeting. After the war there was so much that needed to be put in order, and to many people sought only to make a profit.

Most of the people around the table thought that way.

Aragorn did not really trust more than half of them.

He had Arwen and Legolas there to help him keep track of things.

There was an official scribe that wrote everything down, But he had asked Faramir to take notes as well. He trusted the young Steward.

The problem was that Denethor never had.

Denethor had been so certain that his oldest son would become Steward, that he had never seen the need to train his youngest.

Despite that the young man did his best.

Aragorn leaned closer to Arwen. "They seek only their own profit." He said. He spoke in her language, so that none other than she or Legolas could understand.

"We can not let them have their way. Gondor would be doomed if we did."

"If they profited they would not care." Legolas said

They discussed the problem amongst themselves. Trying to find the best solution. Aragorn regretted that he could not include the young Steward whom was still faithfully taking notes, but if he told hem the others would hear. He did not want them to know just yet.

For the moment they were busy with their own argument, and had not taken notice about the conversation taking place in the tongue of the elves.

The quirk was that when they came upon a solution they needed a written copy of it. Once that was clear they agreed that they had to risk being over heard when telling Faramir. Hopefully if it was done quietly the others would take no notice of it. Nor catch on to what was being said.

He turned to the younger man and was about to whisper a request for a written version of their decision. Before he had been able to whisper the words Faramir passed a few sheets of paper to him.

Aragorn glanced at the papers, neat rows of distinctly elvish letters covered the front of them.

One quick glance told him that he had in his hand what he had been about to ask for.

"I did not know that you spoke the tongue of the elves?" He said softly in elvish to the younger man.

"Not many does, sire." He said softly in a perfect dialect. "I did not mean to deceive you about my knowledge."

Aragorn laughed softly. "Ah, but it is a pleasant surprise. I should have known to suspect it from you. Who taught you, if I may ask?"

"Mithrandir helped me with some parts of it." He admitted.

"It's a good thing, there are certain things that I do not wish the councillors to know." He eyed the papers again. "Thank you my friend."

Arwen and Legolas was giving them knowing glances.

"You should have been able to guess." Arwen chided him.

"Oh, and you were?" He said.

"I was fairly certain he could at least speak it." Arwen smiled. "Really love, it is in his nature, a desire to know everything. It would not surprise me if he knew other languages as well."

The End, for now, more on the same theme will follow.

Reviews will be welcomed with open arms, flames will be dealt with according to the boy scout rule.

They will be used in the making of Hot Dogs for all those who left a review.

Thank you for reading this far.

Elenhin


	2. A King Made Fool

A King Made Fool

According to Rohan preference the meal was not a quiet affair. The Hobbits was quit talkative. Legolas and Gimli was arguing about, well something. The men was evolving themselves into whatever conversation was most interesting for the moment.

Arwen and Eowyn seemed to compare different traits in the nature of men. Eomer had seated himself next to Eowyn, since they would see less of each other in the near future, when Eowyn moved to Ithilien with her husband, he wanted to be near her while he could. They were only betrothed now, and so it was some time away, but for him it would still come to soon.

Well aware that Faramir had been seated on his other side, Eomer decided that some things was best spoken in Rohiric.

"Sister." He said to her. "There are some things about the men of Gondor that you should know." He glanced to his side, but Faramir was looking at Aragorn and seemed to take no heed of the strange tongue spoken by the man next to him. ¨

"Such as what?" She asked, giving him a strange look.

"The men of Gondor can not drink. Look at your future husband. He has only had one mug of ale this evening. They are to weak for decent ale."

Eowyn was about to object and defend her betrothed but never got the chance. A young Gondorian man lean into the conversation from the side.

"Actually that is not true at all." A young Gondorian man whom spoke Rohiric like a native. "Your count is muddled by ale. I've had three." Faramir smiled at Eowyn.

Eomer looked like a young boy that had been caught in the act of mischief, and quite embarrassed as well.

"He never were good at counting." Eowyn smiled wickedly. "Drunk or sober he never could count."

Faramir chuckled mirthfully. "I believe you." He said. Mischief gleamed in his eyes. "I believe I have heard that is a treat that most of the Rohan men share." He gave Eowyn a playful smile. "Of course the women of Rohan does not share it, they are much to intelligent and cunning." He added.

Eowyn laughed at her betrotheds mirth, and of course her brothers embarrassments. She had known that Faramir spoke the Rohiric tongue. She had been about to warn him, but Faramir had scored the point wonderfully. Her brother had still not been able to come up with any reply at all.

The others around the table had begun to realise they had missed the cause of his silence, and was enquiring about it.

Faramir being polite and not wanting to offend would not speak the tale. Eowyn saw it as her duty as his sister to inform them of the details. The tale combined with Eomer's dumbstruck expression soon had everyone laughing at the King whom had made himself the fool.

The End, of this chapter. As said before more shall follow, ye have been warned.

Thanks to all readers, especially those whom also reviwed.

Elenhin

* * *

Breon Briarwood: Thank you for the kind words, there are indeed many situations when one wish for language skills, and yes, they are coming.

Dumbledalf: Entish I have now done and it shall apear in a later shapter, as for Swahili, I'm working on it

Silver Sniper: There is a point to that. Speaking the wrong language at the wrong time is even now being worked into the plot line.

Pasha ToH: I like to see where it goes as well. Faramir sometimes takes a stroll and leaves me behind. Glad you liked it though.

Sidheranma: Ah, there shall be many drabbles, many indeed. Thank you for reading.


	3. A Song Out of This World

**Author's Note: This is a bit of a joke that I wrote with the help of a friend. We thought that Faramir was skilled at different languages, and wondered just what languages he could speak.**

**We have been trying to think of as many as possible, and writing a story on each. Some languages will be from Lord of the Ring, some will not, but we will name them and where they come from. So Have no fear**

**The language in this chapter is Swedish. The song mentioned is the official Scout Song taken from the Swedish Scouts.Theparts I use herehas benn translated into English by me. The words written in _Italic_ is original Swedish. I hope you shall enjoy the chapter. **

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Ring, I only borrow parts of it and shall return them as soon as I am done. Completely undamaged, as I am certain it will be impossible to see where we glued the pieces back together.

I do not own the Official Swedish Scout Song either, but as I am a Scout, I say I have the right to use it in my fic.

After this boring but somewhat important reading, please continue to, the chapter.

A Song Out of This World

The library was dimly lit due to the late hour. Lamps had been lit and spread a faint glow in the room. However, not even their glow could reach into all corners, and so shadows played on the walls.

Gandalf sat with a few pages of parchment in front of them. They were very old, yellow with age, and the ink had grown faint. No longer a clear black, but so faded it was hard to read. It did not help that it had been written in a language that was not common. He had however been able to decipher almost all of it, alas there were still much left.

Across the table from him sat a young man with an old tome in front of him. He was turning the pages with great care since age had made them weak and brittle.

Turning his eyes from his friend and back to the parchment he muttered a silent curse to himself. One paragraph still had him utterly confused. He could not understand the meaning of it.

"_Håll spänd din sträng, håll blank din pil_." He muttered under his breath. "Whatever does that mean? _'Håll spänd din sträng, håll blank din pil._' I can not understand it."

Faramir looked up from his tome at the quiet muttering. "Keep your bow strung, keep your arrowhead shining." He said softly.

Gandalf looked up to peer at him from across the table. "Do you know what it means?" He asked.

"Ah, yes." Faramir admitted. "It is Swedish, it is not from this world. I learned it some years ago." He looked just a tad embarrassed about his knowledge.

"Then mayhap you would be so kind as to assist me with translating this." Gandalf passed him the parchment. "It seems to be a song, used by some group. I think one could say that they resembled the Rangers somewhat." He passed over a few more of the old parchments. "I think this would be a description of what they did, and how they were organized."

Faramir was already busy studying the first parchment. He had pushed his tome carefully aside, and had pulled paper, ink and a quill close instead. As he read and translated it in his mind, he wrote down the translation on the paper.

"I believe the name of the group is Scouts." He stated absently as he was still working. "Or more precise, Boy Scouts. This is a song the Swedish Boy Scouts used. That paragraph comes from it, and here is another one that sounds interesting. 'The weak we give our courage, heavy burdens we enlighten. We gladly sacrifice our blood.' They must be very committed to their cause." He stated.

Having finished his translation he read through it again.

"Ah, I think I see. It is more of a figure of speech than it is a real statement." He decided thoughtfully.

"Sounds reasonable." Gandalf decided. Taking the translation of the song. "What can you make of that other ones. They should be of the same group."

"They are." Faramir skimmed over the first few lines. "How it came to be founded, their motto and such it seems." He took up his quill again as he read through it careful not to miss any detail.

"It was founded by a man named Robert Baden-Powell. Apparently he thought that the young boys that had nothing to do should be provided by a healthy exercise that would keep them occupied." He took the time to read through parts of it again so that he would not say anything wrong. "He gathered a group of them and taught them useful skills. The name comes from the word scout and scouting as he was in the military once. And he wanted them to scout out every possibility in the situations they faced. Apparently he charged them with 'doing a good deed daily.' So that they would be useful and kind to others."

"That does not sound like a bad idea." Gandalf decided.

"It sounds like he knew what he was doing." Faramir looked at a list of paragraph. "He set out rules for what a Scout should strive to be. 'A Scout understands there is strength in being gentle. He treats others as he wants to be treated. He does not hurt or kill harmless things without reason.' I rather like the sound of it." He decided. "These codes was not something one was judged by, it seems it was a code they were asked to do their best to live by. They also had a motto. 'Be prepared.'"

"What were they charged with being prepared for?" Gandalf asked. "I'm sure it would be specified."

Faramir smiled. "Not specified as such. 'For any thing.' It seems the founder stated. They were to be prepared for life. For living, and making living a good thing for themselves, and for others." He tapped the paper. "I guess that is the doing a good deed again."

"Seems to me the Rangers could learn from them." Gandalf teased.

"The Rangers are not the only ones that could learn from it." Faramir mused. "I would like to make some of the nobles follow the 'good deed' rule. I know some of them that are quite the opposite."

"They tend to be rather greedy." Gandalf agreed. "Well, I thank you for the help. It was driving me to the edge not being able to get anything out of it." He gave Faramir a calculating look. "I would never have guessed that you would be able to read it. How come you have learnt a language that is not from this world."

Faramir gave a shy smile. "I found a book about it once. It seemed a challenge, so I tried my best to master it."

"I am certainly glad for that." Gandalf mused. "You have saved me several days work it seems."

"Then mayhap you could help me look for something." Faramir smiled as innocently as he was able to.

"What would that be?" The smile did not fool Gandalf the least, but he was amused by it. It was a bit of good natured humour and fun between the two friends.

Faramir pointed to a few lines in the tome he had been studying. "I know there is another book in this library that refers to this name, but I know not where to look for it. If you could help me find it I would be grateful."

"I shall see what I can do." With those words the two friends sat out searching the library for the tome Faramir needed.

The End.

* * *

Breon Briarwood: Thank You again for your suport. I value it very much. 

Silver Sniper: When I learned languages in School, I to desiered to have his skills at it. I am glad you though that it was fun.

Raksha The Demon: It is a shame Faramir is to bussy to teach. You might have noticed that I have been called a 'perpetual spelling disaster' but I am doing my best. The Harad plot is under construction, as for the rest, it is taken under heavy consideration.

lindahoyland: Thank you very much. I was hoping it would be fun to read, and so it means a lot that you liked it.

Shallindra: I am very glad you liked it. There will be some longer chapters, but thus far I am afraid they are rather short. I shall do my best to make them turn out well atleast.

Thank You all whom have reviwed, and all of you who read as well.

Every reviwe is much apriciated.

Kind Regards, Elenhin


	4. Of Ents and Entish

Author's Note: This is a bit of a joke that I wrote with the help of a friend. We thought that Faramir was skilled at different languages, and wondered just what languages he could speak. 

Trying to think of as many as possible, and writing a story on each. Some languages will be from Lord of the Ring, some will not, but we will name them and where they come from. So Have no fear

This chapter is about the Ents and their language, since their is not much facts to be found about it, I jave done my best to make it corect. I hope it will do.

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Ring, I only borrow parts of it and shall return them as soon as I am done. Completely undamaged, as I am certain it will be impossible to see where we glued the pieces back together.

Of The Ents and Entish

Aragorn had invited all of his friends for dinner, and after the meal they had sat down and was discussing various things.

Eowyn and Arwen was discussing the subject of becoming mothers. Eowyn held little Elboron in her arms, and Arwen would soon give birth to her child.

Sam had drawn Legolas into a discussion about flowers, trees and all that could be grown in a garden. Gimli was enjoying listening to them and kept throwing in comments to annoy Legolas as much as possible. Frodo appeared amused by Gimli's frustration of being completely ignored by Legolas.

Aragorn had drawn Faramir into a discussion of politics since the young man still was quite formal around his King. Aragorn did however make attempts at changing the subject to more informal things every now and then. Both men listened with clear amusements to the discussion between Merry and Pippin.

"There's no beer better than that from the Green Dragon!" Merry exclaimed.

"Aye, but that Rohan stuff was rather good, I think." Pippin grinned. "You know I think you could really teach them how to brew _real_ ale."

"Not like the Gondorian thing--- what really is it?" Merry wondered. "S'not really water, but it's not really ale either."

"I believe the Shire folks are not quite satisfied with the ale our people drink." Aragorn smiled. Another attempt to make the subject between the two more personal.

"The Rohan ale does have another potency." Faramir admitted. "Eowyn refuses the Gondorian brew, so I'm getting quite used to it."

"The brew the Dwarves makes, now that's something," Pippin stated. "Almost makes you think you're back at the Green Dragon again."

"Ever tried that, Faramir?" Aragorn asked with a smile.

"No, I do not think so," he said thoughtfully.

"You would remember if you had. Much stronger than anything that has ever been brewed in Rohan." Aragorn grinned. "Not even Eomer would remain standing after a few pints."

"Strong indeed then." Faramir nodded.

"And the Shire ale is even worse." Aragorn chuckled.

"Now that Entish what-ever-it-was, that some really good drink," Pippin stated with a wide grin.

"Shame we could not drink much of it, even if we had it," Merry said remorsefully. "We'd get so tall we couldn't get into our own house back home."

"Was fun, wasn't it," Pippin said with a sad smile. "Kinda miss Treebeard."

"He was really nice," Merry agreed.

"Yeah, with all his Hruuuummmmppppphhhhh, hrrrroooooooommmmmm, hrrrrrruuuuuuuuupppppppppppphhhhhhhhhhhmmmmmmmmmmmmmuuuuuuuuuumm." Pippin made a quite lengthy speech that was a rather good impression of Entish.

"Somehow, I doubt he said just that." Faramir grinned.

"It sounded like that," Pippin stated firmly. "The whole time."

"Yes, I do not doubt that." Faramir gave Pippin a warm smile. "But did he really say, 'the ants walk upside down in the lake because the sky is green?' Somehow I doubt it."

Pippin, Merry and Aragorn looked at him, quite baffled.

"He never said that," Pippin managed.

"The Entish you spoke would translate as that," Faramir explained.

"Faramir," Aragorn said. Faramir turned to look at him. "You speak Entish?"

"I understand it better than I speak it." Faramir said shyly. "I asked Mithrandir about the Ents when I was younger. In the end he relented and taught me the language. Takes too long to really speak it, though. One can go on for half an hour if one wants, and not getting further than 'hello.' "

"He did say it took a long time to say anything in old Entish," Merry remembered.

"They do have a point with it," Faramir noted. "One should not say anything that's not worth the time it takes saying it."

"Argh, stop that, Faramir," Pippin pleaded. "You even _sound_ like an Ent."

"Now my friend, be not hasty in your judgement." Faramir grinned as he knew the two hobbits had heard that many times from the Ents.

Aragorn looked very pleased as it had been the whole course of the conversation, and Faramir had not fallen back to formality even once.

'Mayhap there is hope for him,' he mused to himself. 'The Ents can be hasty at times, and one can make the Steward smile.'

This chapter have now reached its end, a new chapter shall follow upon a later date. Unless something goes wrong it shall come in a week.

Thank you all for reading, and for reviewing, wich of course you all do, do you not?

* * *

Breon Briarwood: Thank you, since you asked I have posted the whole song on my user bio. There is no other page with it that I know of, at least not where it is translated into English. It will be on my page for some time.

Silver Sniper: I am glad you like the chapter, I hope you like this as well. One can have just as much fun with Swedish as with any other language, and I enjoy playing with languages.

lindahoyland: The only reason that Faramir is a Ranger is because they do not have Scouts. I mean, everyone loves to be a Scout, myself I was born Scout, and I always shall be one. Thank you very much for your kind words.

LalaithoftheBruinen: I am oh so glad you liked it. I try to update once a week. That way I can make sure I writefaster and won't run out of chapters to update. I will sometimes post other things at various times thought.

Random-Battlecry: Can I thank you enough? I Doubt it, but I try, thank you. I had fun with the Swedish, and I shall most certainly keep posting.

silvren ithildin: Thank you again and again, and then some. I apreciate your help a lot.

Thank you all once more, for I do not believe that word can be used to many times.

Kindest Regards, Elenhin


	5. Latin Confusion

Author's Note: This is a bit of a joke that I wrote with the help of a friend. We thought that Faramir was skilled at different languages, and wondered just what languages he could speak. 

Trying to think of as many as possible, and writing a story on each. Some languages will be from Lord of the Ring, some will not, but we will name them and where they come from. So Have no fear

In this chapter the author is not really me, this is why we claim to have co-authored this. My good friend Celebrion is mainly responsible for this. I know, he managed to stealCarl right from beneth my nose. I wanted to write Carl.

Honestly, as I said, we are in this together, but he was lucky to get Carl, and I have helped out with a line here or there, I got a little Carl.

Since I have already given Carl away, I might warn you that we are doingQuenya andLatin here. Carl is from Van Helsing, and both he and Faramir is played by the same actor, David Wenham, in case there is someone who did not know this.

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Ring, I only borrow parts of it and shall return them as soon as I am done. Completely undamaged, as I am certain it will be impossible to see where we glued the pieces back together.

Do not own Van Helsing either, and unfortunatlely Carl belongs to the Van Helsing movie.

Here is the tale as we will tell it. (PLease, we know we make spelling errors, please take no offence. We truly do our best. Besides, you should suport your local spelling disaster.)

Latin Confusion

By Celebrion

A waft of dust rose as the doors to the old library opened. Carl sat at a desk, surrounded by ancient tomes and manuscripts, many faded and brittle. The page in his hands was in good condition compared to some of the others in front of him.

The other page of the pair lay in a protective leather file just in front of him. That page was brittle even compared to the oldest books in the library, and was written in a language he had never seen before, all curls and dots to the eye.

'This is what you get from digging around to much in the dusty parts of the world.' He thought to himself, sighed yet again and looking down at the aged parchment encased in leather. The strange script seemed to flow over the page.

The introduction on the younger page said that the monk that had originally found the page had been able to translate it, and that this was a translation of it. The problem was that the key for translating that was also mentioned, seemed to have disappeared at some point.

Carl was deeply confused.

"_Et in finis Aeni Tertium Vis Annuli delere erat et Dominus Tenebrosus erat discedere postrem vice. Quod est Aeni Tertium? __Quod est in Primum Seceredum Aenorum facet? Quod est Vis Annuli? Et quis est Dominus Tenebrosus? Et quod fueret de eum?_"

"He is as good as dead, his name was Sauron…"

Carl jerked his head up and saw a man, dressed in black and with brown hair that reached to his shoulders, standing in front of the desk.

"Pardon me for interrupting, but I could not help but overhearing you talking…" The man said with a faint smile.

It took Carl a moments to realize that the stranger was speaking fluent Latin with him.

"Excuse me, but who are you?" He asked hesitantly.

"Oh, pardon my manners. I am Faramir. Pray tell me whom I have the great honour of addressing?" The stranger said in a gentle voice.

"Oh dear. I'm Carl. Uhm, nice to meet you?" He hurried to introduce himself.

"Please forgive my inquisitiveness, but may I ask what that is that you are studying, Carl?"

"Oh, just these old manuscripts that I found in 'the Kingdom of Dust' a week ago." He grinned as he used his favourite phrase for the oldest corner of the library.

"That place I recognize." The man grinned back. "We have one such realm where I come from to. I have spent many days down there."

"Me too… Hum, where are you from?" Carl asked curiously. "It rather sounds like I would like to visit, you seem to have a nice library."

"I am sorry, but it might be a bit troublesome going there. I come from Minas Tirith. I think that the document on your desk originates from there."

Carl's mouth fell open, he knew of that city.

Faramir merely smiled gentle and produced a thick book, labelled in the same curly script covering the frontcover and back.

Carl, suddenly rendered incapable of both speech and movement, just sat there.

Faramir placed the book carefully on the desk.

"Farewell, my friend." He smiled reassuringly at the confused friar, turned and left, still smiling. He had found someone that shared his passion for languages, and he knew where to find him again if he should like to.

Temporarily, The End

* * *

Silver Sniper: Thank You, once again

lindahoyland: I am lucky to have you reading this, and I still love every singel word in your tale.

LalaithoftheBruinen: The next chapter is in a week, I am so glad that you wait for me.

Kalayna: There are more surprises to come, as always, but I am truly delighted that you liked it. The Entish was fun to do.

Thank you all for your reviews, we love to read them.


	6. The Peoples Skillets

Author's Note: This is a bit of a joke that I wrote with the help of a friend. We thought that Faramir was skilled at different languages, and wondered just what languages he could speak.

Trying to think of as many as possible, and writing a story on each. Some languages will be from Lord of the Ring, some will not, but we will name them and where they come from. So Have no fear

The Lord Demeni is not an evil lord, he is merely a bit confused at times. (Read that as all the time.) He always means well, but not necessarily what he says. He might say a word while actually meaning to say another word, or he thinks the meaning of the word is entirely different from what he means.

Using misinterpretations of the English Language was an idea that Breon Briarwood gave me, and I have used it, so if you like it, give some credit there. Lord Demeni shall appear later as well.

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Ring, I only borrow parts of it and shall return them as soon as I am done. Completely undamaged, as I am certain it will be impossible to see where we glued the pieces back together.

Now, please read this, 'ehurm', masterful work, or whatever it is. I do however hope you enjoy it.

The People's Skillets

Restoring a country to working order after a war is not easy. Things are handled different in war than in peace. Also certain things tend to be in high demand during war. Soldiers for one thing. A smith will find himself unable to match the demand of swords and weapons, while a bookbinder might find that he has no demand to meet, and that if he wants to survive he has to join the growing number of smiths.

Unfortunately after the war that means you might find yourself rather short on bookbinders, amongst others.

Now a smith might be good to have around, but if he was to try and fill the vacancy, the books would be quite heavy subjects. As they would have a tendency to be crafted in polished steel.

To avoid this burdening situation more bookbinders would have to be found, and that means convincing the smiths that one can not put a book on the hot coals, and then proceed to give them a good whack with the hammer. Well, one can do it, but it tends to utterly ruin the books. As the meaning of this procedure was to create more books, this would be rather pointless.

The best thing to do is to find a bookbinder that never ceased being a bookbinder in favour of being a smith. When one has found that bookbinder, one can give him the task of teaching former smiths, to be new bookbinders.

Thus you might be able to restore some of what needs to be restored when one is going from war, into peace.

This however means that politicians have to spend many hours talking before they even realises that the smiths have not yet ceased making swords.

"If we shall get things to run smoothly again there is much to do."

King Elessar, formerly, and sometimes still, known as Aragorn, frowned at the words. They were all to true, every syllable of them. They were short on several quite necessary supplies. They had not been necessary during the war, and so they had not been manufactured. Now however there was a rising demand for them, and that demand preferably had to be met.

"Too much, given the time everyone wants it done in." Aragorn sighed.

"There was many things that the people thought was wrong while the King was gone." Faramir stated. "Now that there is a King again they want to see them righted within the first week."

"Remind me never to leave a country Kingless for this many generations again." Aragorn joked without any real humour.

"I myself never thought it would be thus." Faramir sighed. "And I'm afraid I'm not the best one to help you deal with it. I was never instructed in these things." As he said so he hefted a pile of documents, and suppressed a shudder at their weight. There was an awful lot of things that 'needed the King's most urgent attention.' That whole pile preferably had to be dealt with during the week, if not it would grow twice as high as new ones were added.

"It seems most of them wants the King to tell them to continue doing what they already have been doing for some time, and what is the most logical thing to do." He sighed. What he had just said barely made sense, but he was to tired of the documents to care.

"I agree." Aragorn nodded. "I do not understand why a farmer that has been a farmer his whole life suddenly needs my direct order to harvest." The joke was meant to lighten the mood of the two men. "I suppose they want to know that I really care about their work." He decided.

"True." Faramir nodded. "And that I can understand. What I shall never fully grasp is why the councillors can not decide to tell the poor man to harvest before they have spent a week discussing the consequences."

Both men chuckled at the joke. Aragorn feeling very pleased that the younger man now was enough at ease with him to make jokes.

"Still we shall have to venture into that room, and struggle not to lose against the utter boredom as they argue." He said as they headed towards the council chamber, and yet another devastatingly boring session in there.

The arguments had already started they noticed as they walked into the room. The councillors all stopped speaking in honour of the King. Then as he took his seat they seamlessly took up their arguments again.

"We must somehow restock all supplies." One of them said.

"Agreed, but how shall we go on about it. There is no one to actually do the task." Another objected.

"There are several professions were we need more people." Faramir stated calmly. "It seems the best thing would be to make sure they could take on apprentices. If everyone could take two or three, there would soon be a growing number whom had learned the trade."

A new argument arouse regarding his words. Mostly concern whatever there would be young men that wanted to be apprenticed, and if anyone would take them in. Finally Lord Demeni spoke. He was a large man with taste for good food, and he was not completely corrupt.

"This is indeed a troublesome situation." He claimed. "Yet it is no worse than we have faced before. I say that if we merely trust to the skillets of our people all shall be well."

Aragorn gazed at him in confusion.

"Pardon me my Lord." Faramir said carefully. "What should we do."

"We must trust that our people can solve this situation with the valuable knowledge they have of their trade."

"Ah. " Faramir nodded. "Skills." He turned to face Aragorn. "The Lord sometimes gets confused over his vocabulary." He whispered with a small grin. "I believe he meant skills, and not that we should trust their frying pans."

"If their frying pans can suffice to make a meal I for one would be pleased." Aragorn said with a smirk. "I am getting quite hungry, but I do believe he is right. The people have some useful _skills_, and they know far more about them than we do." He made sure to pronounce the word _skills_ correctly.

"If we made sure that the craftsmen could afford taking on apprentices, I'm sure that they would." Faramir stated.

"Sounds reasonable." Aragorn nodded. "We can afford a small founding as an aid." He grinned at the councilors and winked at Faramir. "I trust we can decide on this action, and wait for them to come to the same conclusion."

"I believe you are right." Faramir grinned. Trust to the people's _skillets_ indeed. If nothing else the Lord kept one amused by his misinterpreting of the language. Trust to the peoples _frying pans_, he kept the smirk from his lips, but it was hard.

Again, sadly, a temporary end until the next chapter.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Annoying Author's not: The word skillet is used for a heany iron frying pan. Here Demeni has confused the words _skills_ and _skillets. _This is suposed to be a funny thing by the way he said it.

Breon Briarwood: Glad you liked the Latin bit, I hope you like what came out of our suggestion as well.

Raksha The Demon: You have not seen the last of 'The Kingdom of Dust.' If nothing else I shall later post poems on that subject.

LalaithoftheBruinen: Yes, the chapters tend to be short. I am working on some longer ones. Also, there is more Carl and Faramir planned. We just have not gotten to it yet.

Earendil Eldar: I am thrilled that you like my Faramir. As for torturing, this tale is mainly humour, not to say there will not be some torture here upon a later date. We have some chapters with more action later, but since they are longer they take more time to write.

silvren ithildin: Ah, we simply do not know how he came to be on earth just yet. We mainly thought it would be a fun idea. Since we are after humour and not fact we ignored that temporarily. So that we could get to the fun bit. We will throw in other people that he could not really be with later as well. Meaning there will be some slight cross over up ahead.

Silver Sniper: Just because we have not done it yet does not mean that we will not try to put a few of these chapters on film. We actually might try to do it at some point. I take it you would like a copy if we do?

sidheranma: It makes me very happy to know that. I hope you like the rest as well.

Lindahoyland: I enjoy your comments as well. As for the ghosts, if you allow me some time to work on it I might be able to find a way to include them as well.

Aragorn waits for Arwen: Thank you, and do not worry. There is a lot more to come.

Dumbledalf: Well the Swedish book was not sure how it got there, but since it was feeling very alone it was just happy that someone found it. We just assume that somehow it had just wound up in the Kingdom of Dust at some point. There will be more of these strange things. Some of them are not explained as it would be rather boring to read, and not really any point to it.

Ah, who is Carl. He is a friar, a monk of sorts, in the movie Van Helsing. The joke is because both Carl and Faramir id being played by the same actor, David Wenham. If you want to know more about that, give me the word and I shall send you an email.

Big Thanks to all who reviewed. I loved every word of your comments.

For you who have not yet reviewed, I like you guys to, and I would like you even more if you did review.


	7. Strange Latin

Author's Note: This is a bit of a joke that I wrote with the help of a friend. We thought that Faramir was skilled at different languages, and wondered just what languages he could speak.

Trying to think of as many as possible, and writing a story on each. Some languages will be from Lord of the Ring, some will not, but we will name them and where they come from. So Have no fear

Since Carl was so beloved, and since we promised to do him again, here he is.

This time we are concentrating on Latin. The idea was worked out between me and Celebrion, and this time I got to write it. Last time we had Carl, in _Latin Confusion_ it was Celebrion who was the main author. This time it is me, and he beta read the thing.

Since I have already given Carl away, I might warn you that we are doing Latin here.

Carl is from Van Helsing, and both he and Faramir is played by the same actor, David Wenham, in case there is someone who did not know this.

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Ring, I only borrow parts of it and shall return them as soon as I am done. Completely undamaged, as I am certain it will be impossible to see where we glued the pieces back together.

Do not own Van Helsing either, and unfortunately Carl belongs to the Van Helsing movie.

Here is the tale as we will tell it.

The Lord Demeni and the Lord Barladro are mine, if you can guess at the translation of the names, let me know.

(PLease, we know we make spelling errors, please take no offence. We truly do our best. Besides, you should suport your local spelling disaster.)

* * *

Strange Latin

"Faramir, are you going to read that all night?" Eowyn asked her husband.

Faramir was sitting in a comfortable armchair with a few sheets of paper in his hands. The pages was yellow with age and the ink was faded. She knew by experience that these was the once he was the most fascinated with. It proved itself for he had not yet reacted to what she had said.

"Faramir." He was still lost in the pages and did not react.

She moved over to peek over his shoulder and now he noticed and looked up.

"Eowyn." He asked confused.

"I asked if you were going to read that all night?"

"Uhm, not all the night." He said while looking slightly ashamed, as if he would have read through the whole night if she had not been ready to stop him.

"Witch means that you will read it until I physically drag you away from it and of to bed. "She gave him a knowing smile and peered at it again. "What is it anyway."

"It is about the Latin language. It really is very fascinating."

"Faramir, you think that everything is fascinating." She smiled at his guilty look. "Where did you find it anyway?"

"Uhm, I was looking in the um." He knew exactly what she was going to say about this. "Well, uh, I was looking through one of the corners of the archives."

"You always are." She chided him gently. "You know Aragorn might not take kindly to the fact that you are running your own little kingdom behind his back."

"Huh, what do you mean?" He asked confused.

"Your Kingdom of dust." She teased him.

"Oh, ah." Faramir scratched his head embarrassed. "That Kingdom, you really do not have to worry though. Aragorn spends as much time as me there."

"So this one is a document in a strange language about a strange language." She noted after an attempt to read it.

"It is simply about the Latin language."

"There is nothing simple about that." She teased. "But if you say that it is that simple why do you not explain it to me." She challenged.

"Well, it is built out of several sentences, and a translation of each one. Then there is an explanation of why it turns out the way it does. Thought the choice of phrases are rather interesting."

Interesting how?" Eowyn asked.

He frowned. "Uhm , I think that either they were picked as a joke, or the one who did it was out to confuse everyone who actually read it."

"Explain." Eowyn made herself comfortable in a chair. She was now curious enough to want to know, but her husbands explanations could be quite lengthy.

"Okay, listen to this." He absently cleared his throat. "_Te precor duleissime supplex_."

"What does it mean, t sounds as strange as anything else to me."

"It translates as, '_Yes thank you, with a sherry on the top_.' That really makes no sense." He shook his head.

Eowyn laughed. "It does if you have anything that you want a cherry on."

"Hm, listen to this then." He shifted the pages and picked the next one. "_'Non sum Pisces_.' _I am not a fish." _

Eowyn giggled. "What's wrong with that?"

He tapped the page. "It is not exactly the introduction to the language I would chose. Listen to this. _'Matter tea circeta fait, et pater tuoredo luit bacarum sambucus_.' That is strange"

He smirked as she waited for the translation he had not yet offered.

"Well." She slapped his arm playfully. "What does it mean?"

"_Your mother is a hamster and your father smells of elderberry_. I assume it is an insult, but I can not begin to guess who would use it."

"If you told Eomer that it was a vile insult, and not what it meant. He might use it." She suggested.

"I'll make sure not to mention it to him then." He raised his eyebrows teasingly. "Or if I o I will tell him that you put me up to it."

"You would." She had gotten curious in spite of herself. "What more is there in that thing?"

"_Mellita domi sum_." Faramir whispered to her.

"And what does that mean?" She crossed her arms across her chest.

"_Honey, I am home_." He leafed through the pages again. "I really wonder who did this." He frowned. "They are good examples, and it explains everything that is necessary, but still." His frown deepened.

"It does make it less boring." Was Eowyn's point of view.

Faramir smirked, raised his eyebrow and tilted his head to the side. Giving her that smile he knew she could not resist.

"_Excusa me, vir optime, cogito inquis tibi nomen 'fatuus' es?_" He was stroking the tip of his chin with his thumb and index finger, waiting for her reaction.

"What does it mean" She demanded.

"What do you think it means?" He tilted his head to the other side. She loved to tease him, and he loved to tease her just as much.

"Are you going to tell me?" She began to tap her foot impatiently.

"I will think about it." He offered. "And when I am safe distant away I might even tell you. "

"Faramir, telling me will be a lot safer than not telling me." She said in a threatening voice.

"That is a good point." He looked at the paper again. "_Excuse me sir, did you say your name was 'idiot._"

"I say that it would appear that you are one if you just said that to me."

"That is another good point." He grinned again. "I had better not tell you anymore things or I will be in trouble."

"For once you have a good point." She smiled. "But as I said before, do not read all of that tonight."

"I'm almost done." He promised. He had reached the last page, and what he read at the bottom of it had him laughing so hard he could hardly catch his breath.

"What is it?" Eowyn demanded to know.

"I suddenly know what this is all about." He gasped in an attempt to draw in some air. "I know who picked examples like these. This thing is signed." He grinned, after he had drawn another deep breath of air.¨

"Well, who did it?" She demanded impatiently. "It sounds to me like you have read other things he has written before."

He nodded. "I have actually met him. It's Friar Carl. He has the right humour to do something like this. If for no other reason than annoy others."

"Who is it?" She frowned. "I have never heard of him.

"You have to dig him out of his books if you want to talk with him." He shrugged as an explanation.

"That sounds like someone else I know." She said thoughtfully, as if she was trying to remember who.

Lost in his own thoughts he absently replayed. "Who." As he realised what she had said his head snapped up and he looked at her.

"That was not nice, even from you." He chided. "We might both enjoy books, but we are nothing like each other."

"If he is anyway as hard to drag away from his books as you are. Then you two are more alike each other than you are willing to admit." She chuckled.

"That was not nice." Faramir looked up at her. "You are insulting him."

"I intended to insult you." She grinned.

"You just said how alike we were. I figure that an insult to me would be for him as well." He tilted his head to the side and gave her that smile again. "If you are done with the insult I have finished now."

"Shame that I am not finished with you then." She teased.

* * *

Since I can not write non stop, and you can not read non stop, and I have run out of the candy called non stop. I guess this is one of those annoying temporarily ends. Oh well, I shall go out and by a bag of M&M's. That is the closest candy to non stop that they still manufacture.

Pasha ToH: Thank You, we hoped we would be entertaining, and there is much more to come.

LalaithoftheBruinen: I am not to fond of that particular treat in politics in case you noticed, I do however enjoy making fun out of them. A treat for you then, since we had some more Carl in this very chapter, and we are not done with him yet.

Silver Sniper: I can not make you a promise yet, but we are working on how to make a film out of it. What it would take and how we would do it. If we manage to work it out, you shall get a copy.

Random-Battlecry: Thank you, I love to read your comments, and to get your support. I do my best to improve. We, meaning me and Celebrion, love Carl and Faramir to, that is why we are doing more of that. We hope you liked this chapter as well.

Lindahoyland: Thank you so much for your support and kind words, it means more to me than I can say. Aragorn is working hard to win Faramir over as a friend. There might be times when Faramir falls back into his more formal ways, but for now Aragorn's methods are working.

I am glad that you like my other stories as well, I will ad more of them later.

Meep!: A Swedish review, that took me by surprise. Took a bit more work to read it, but thank you so much for reviewing anyway. I am glad you enjoyed my work, and I hope you will enjoy it in the future as well.

Thank you all for staying with me, I am truly grateful.

Elenhin


	8. Posioned Potion

Author's Note: This is a bit of a joke that I wrote with the help of a friend. We thought that Faramir was skilled at different languages, and wondered just what languages he could speak.

Trying to think of as many as possible, and writing a story on each. Some languages will be from Lord of the Ring, some will not, but we will name them and where they come from. So Have no fear

The Lord Demeni is not an evil lord, he is merely a bit confused at times. (Read that as all the time.) He always means well, but not necessarily what he says. He might say a word while actually meaning to say another word, or he thinks the meaning of the word is entirely different from what he means.

Using misinterpretations of the English Language was an idea that Breon Briarwood gave me, and I have used it, so if you like it, give some credit there. Lord Demeni shall appear later as well.

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Ring, I only borrow parts of it and shall return them as soon as I am done. Completely undamaged, as I am certain it will be impossible to see where we glued the pieces back together.

I own the Lord Demeni and the Lord Barladro, and anyone who think himself or herself able to guess at the meaning of those names are welcome to do so.

And now for something completely different, a story instead of a note. Please read this creation of mine that somehow was called a story.

/Elenhin

* * *

Poisoned Potion 

"We can not do anything until we have received a report." Aragorn said patiently. He was beginning to tire of saying it. Two months ago there had begun to come a rumour that Orcs had been sighted deep in Ithilien. When the number of people claiming to have seen them grew Aragorn decided that it was time to find out exactly what was going on. Two weeks ago he had sent out Faramir to see if he could discover anything.

His young Steward was after all a skilled Ranger. He would be able to find their tracks if there had ever been any. He was also a very competent Captain should need be. If there actually were Orcs, then it was possible that the men sent would have to fight.

Now as they sat in Council the Councillors and nobles were beginning to speak for immediate action. He could however not send out troops before he knew what the situation was like.

"How long can we wait?" A pompous Lord demanded. "Shall we wait with action until the farmers have all been slain?" He demanded

"No my Lord." Aragorn sighed tiredly. "But neither should we act when we still not know what we are facing. It might be nothing more than a rumour, to send out the whole army to deal with a rumour would be pointless."

"The farmers speak out of fear." Lord Barladro exclaimed. He would not be swayed by reason.

He was one of these Lords that was convinced the country would never survive without him. The country rather did not care as long as it did not have to deal with him personally. Aragorn had to, and he rather envied the rest of the country.

"My Lord." He said again. "Never would I hold back the army when there was need of it, but our army is not as great a number as it formerly was. I would rather send a small number of men that knew what they were dealing with, and was trained for dealing with just that. Than I would send out a greater number that was not prepared for it. Surely you see the reason in it."

"I see that we can not wait forever for a report. How long after we get it will it be before we can act?" Lord Barladro demanded.

"That depends on how long the Council shall insist on discussing what should be done." He said tiredly. "I myself am confident we could have the order for the men to ride a mere few hours after I receive that report."

"That could be much to late for the farmers."

"I repeat we only have rumours this far. We do not know if they have actually seen Orcs."

"They have my King." A new, gentle voice stated. "But as of yet the Orcs have not attacked any farmers."

All looked to see the new speaker. Faramir had arrived back at the citadel, and upon learning that the King was in Council, decided to seek him out there. If the King wished to receive his report in private, that was easily arranged, and if not, then they could save time by his reporting directly to the Council.

His clothes was heavily stained with the dirt that tends to stick to a man that is travelling. There was also the occasional blood stain on them, and the not particularly clean cloth that was tied around his left upper arm. He looked quite exhausted, and there was a hot flush to an otherwise pale face.

He did however have an air of firm strength and confidence around him. The same as he so often seemed to project. He was also steady enough on his feet.

"Faramir, are you well?" Aragorn asked concerned.

"Well enough, thought I shall need some rest later." He nodded. "I would deliver my report if it pleases you." Here he knelt before the King to show his respect.

"There are many waiting eagerly for that report." Aragorn said, and winked at the younger man. They had shared many jokes on behalf of the Councillors. "Please deliver it to us. I take it you know it was Orcs for a fact." He offered a grin, and as he bid the man to rise he briefly touched a cheek to feel the heat of a slight fever. Nothing to be concerned about, but as soon as this Council was over, he would tend to his friend.

"Ah, yes." Faramir turned partly so that he faced the whole Council. "We did indeed find their tracks, and we also found the Orcs themselves shortly after that. And then regrettable, the Orcs found us."

There was a few chuckles at the wording he used. Lord Demeni spoke before he could continue. The Lord was rather likable, he was a bit distracted at times, and not a little confused at other times, but he was one Lord that put his people before himself. Even if one might not believe it by looking at his waistline.

"Since the Prince appears rather worn out, and the report shall no doubt take some time." He began. "I would send for some refreshment for him ere he begins." He offered a friendly smile and a pointed look at the makeshift bandage around his arm. "And perhaps some poison would not go amiss either."

"What?" Aragorn managed to choke out. Faramir looked positively baffled.

"I meant no offence." Lord Demeni hurried to say. "Merely that since the Prince appears to be injured, the healers might be able to provide something for him."

"_Potion_." Faramir muttered, quiet enough that only the King heard him. "How does he manage to mix up _potion_ with _poison_."

The King chuckled. "It is a kind thought." He assured the Lord. "I would appreciate if you would call for some light refreshment. I think we all might need some. As for the _potion_ I intend to take care of the Prince ere we are done here." He sounded out the word clearly, thought he doubted that the Lord would catch on to his mistake. He did however have a strong feeling that had the Lord sent for any Faramir would have refused it. Afraid that the Lord might have sent for the wrong mixture. It was a rather interesting mistake to make.

The refreshment arrived and Faramir came to the end of his report. "We shall hardly need to send out the whole army." He stated. "A number of well equipped patrols with enough men in each should have no trouble dealing with them."

The King gave the order and then closed down the Council meeting. Taking his young Steward with him to tend to him in private.

He cleaned the cut on his arm and closed it with a few stitches. Then cleaned a small number of minor cuts.

"Nothing serious." Aragorn assured him. "Just get some rest and it shall not hinder you at all."

"I was able to determine as much myself." Faramir smiled. "We were lucky. We did not lose anyone, and no one was even seriously injured."

"Lucky indeed." Aragorn agreed, and handed him a tin mug. "Now drink all of this and take some sleep."

"What is it." Faramir peered into the mug cautiously. "You had better not allowed Lord Demeni anywhere near it."

Aragorn could not help but chuckle mirthfully. "You need not fear. It is not his _poison_, but a _potion_ entirely of my own making. It is perfectly safe. Merely something to ease the pain and help you sleep just a little bit easier."

"That is alright then." Faramir sipped it, and found it was not only safe, it was also sweetened with honey. "How he manages to mix these things up are beyond me."

"But he makes for many laughs." Aragorn beamed.

"That he does." Faramir agreed, draining the mug. Pondering what the Lord should mix up next.

The End, for this time as well. As so often happens, more shall follow. That is why it is called an _temporary ending_

Silver Sniper, I made it _temporary_ for your sake, otherwise it would have been an, _the end for now_. I hope you like it

* * *

LalaithoftheBruinen: Glad you like Carl, we have plenty more of him planned. I have not seen the Extended Edition yet, but I am trying to get those of my friends whohas boughtit to lend it to me. I can't wait until someone does.

Silver Sniper: When we manage to film it, you shall have a copy, and you shall have many more temporary endings. Sounds like a lovely walk, or not. As a scout who plays the trumpet I think I know what you went through, I feel sorry for you. Hopefully these weird things lightens up a bad day.

Lindahoyland: You are supposed to laugh the whole time, if you did not it would not be funny. We, being Celebrion and me, (I am not schizophrenic just yet,) also like to link David Wenham's roles together, so keep an eye out for them. I think that I can actually see Eomer using anything that is an insult. Do you want me to see if I can find something even weirder insult for him at some later point?

frodo16424: Yes the Kingdom of Dust was constructed for these two, I am glad that you think it fits them. Thank you so much for the vote, the progress can be seen on my author's page.

* * *

Here I would like to thank everyone who reads my works, thank you. 

Here it must also be said that in the tale "A Two Colour Chain Mail," we started the vote based on the fact that Sean Bean and David Wenham made the perfect image of two brothers. We also got plenty of agreement on that.

So here it is, if you agree with us and think that they should be real brothers. Say so in your review. It shall be your vote. On my authors page, in the bio I shall keep score. When the score reaches 100, they shall be declared official brothers. Then on my authors page shall be an official declaration written by Elenhin and Celebrion.

Then the truth can not be denied, they shall be brothers.

Thank You all for reading, and thank you even more for reviewing.

Kindest Regards to all, Elenhin


	9. The Continuing Anecdote, Part One

Author's Note: This is a bit of a joke that I wrote with the help of a friend. We thought that Faramir was skilled at different languages, and wondered just what languages he could speak.

Trying to think of as many as possible, and writing a story on each. Some languages will be from Lord of the Ring, some will not, but we will name them and where they come from. So Have no fear

The Lord Demeni is not an evil lord, he is merely a bit confused at times. (Read that as all the time.) He always means well, but not necessarily what he says. He might say a word while actually meaning to say another word, or he thinks the meaning of the word is entirely different from what he means.

Using misinterpretations of the English Language was an idea that Breon Briarwood gave me, and I have used it, so if you like it, give some credit there. Lord Demeni shall appear later as well.

This is pretty much a sequel to Poisoned Potion, as this picks up where that one left off. Reading this chapter without reading the last chapter first can be confusing. That means it will be even more confusing than the normal level on my works. So please make sure to read the last chapter first.

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Ring, I only borrow parts of it and shall return them as soon as I am done. Completely undamaged, as I am certain it will be impossible to see where we glued the pieces back together.

I own the Lord Demeni and the Lord Barladro, and anyone who think himself or herself able to guess at the meaning of those names are welcome to do so.

And now for something completely different, a story instead of a note. Please read this creation of mine that somehow was called a story.

/Elenhin

* * *

The Continuing Anecdote, Part One 

A patrol had been sent out to deal with the Orcs only two days ago, but some of the Councillors was already asking for progress.

"They have not even gotten two full days away from here yet. It is at least two more days until they reach the area they are supposed to patrol." Faramir informed them, again, absently scratching his arm. "We have sent out patrols, they will send back word to us as soon as they have any word."

"I am sure that promise will make the farmers feel so much safer." Barladro snorted.

"Actually a few of them have already expressed gratitude." Aragorn pointed out.

"We have done all we can at this point." Faramir said. "When we get the first report we can decide upon further action."

"Unless there is anything else to discuss, I will close the meeting for today. Lord Barladro, we truly can not get further with this discussion today."

Barladro grumbled, but could not really say anything.

Faramir remained behind as they walked out the door, like he usually did. He and Aragon usually went over what had been said during the meeting between themselves.

"That man is impossible." Aragorn complained. "What more does he think that I can do."

"Nothing." Faramir shook his head. "But he thinks that complaining about it, and demanding for action will make him seem more important."

"How do we make him stop?"

"I am afraid that we can not. He was appointed to the council because he is a Lord with much property." He rubbed his forehead, sometimes these tedious meetings gave him headaches. "There is also to many of the other Lords that thinks he truly is as important as he says he is."

"I was afraid of that." Aragorn said ruefully. "How do you suppose that Eomer deals with his over pompous Lords?" He asked.

"My guess is that he uses his sword." He shook his head to try and clear it. "Is there anything else today, sire?"

"Nothing really." Aragorn looked closer at him, taking in his appearance. "You look rather exhausted."

"These meetings are tedious." He sighed.

"Nothing else?" Aragorn though that he looked just a little pale.

"A slight headache. When the good Lord Barladro gets going it really is no wonder."

"I agree." Aragorn gathered up all the papers.

"Take your rest now. What you need is a good nights sleep." Aragorn gave him a warm smile.

"I shall see if I can find one then." Faramir nodded. "I bid thee a pleasant night, sire."

"Sleep well Faramir." Aragorn smiled at the difference in their ways. Faramir was still very formal, but at least he smiled when he said it, and even dared a joke or two. He had also stopped blushing at Aragorn's more informal responses.

Before he went to bed Faramir brewed himself a pot of tea for the headache. He also took some salve he had and smoothed it over the healing wound on his arm. It was healing, but still an angry red. It also itched rather badly. The itch was annoying, but then all these small things that gnawed at the edge of your attention were.

He did not even dream during the night, but when he awoke the headache had still increased, and so had the itch. He caught himself scratching it several times.

Aragorn had met with the Lord Demeni more privately, he was after all one of the more reasonable Lords. He knew what the limits for what the King could do were. The only other one present was Faramir.

"Faramir, is that wound still bothering you?" Aragorn asked suddenly.

"No." He shrugged.

"Then why are you scratching at it like that?"

Faramir hurriedly snatched his hand away from it.

"It itches a bit." He admitted.

"Seems like more than a little." Aragorn noted. "You were scratching yesterday too. Let me have a look at it."

"It has been itching a little for some time." Faramir admitted guiltily.

Aragorn shook his head at him. "Witch means a lot, for a long time. Roll up your sleeve."

"Sire, really it is nothing." Faramir said a bit shyly. The Lord Demeni was silent. It was not his presence that made Faramir shy, not by very much at least. He was always shy when someone else was around, no matter who it was.

Aragorn stepped forward, unlaced the cuff of his shirt and rolled up the sleeve.

"It is red all over." Aragorn stated as he got his first look at it. "It looks really irritated and there is a rash." He looked up at Faramir. "It is spreading out from the wound Faramir."

"Infection?" He clenched his teeth, if it had become infected it would have to be opened again, and he really detested that thought.

"Not infected, it does not look like that at all." He frowned.

"That's good." Faramir sighed with relief.

Aragorn probed it with his fingertips. "There is something wrong thought. I think the rash is spreading, not simply confined to the wound area. It looks like some kind of mild poison to me."

"I hope that it is not." Faramir murmured.

"It does look like it thought." Aragorn pointed at it. "Look how it has spread. The redness has reached all the way to your wrist. There probably was some mild plant poison on the blade."

"I trust you will not have any trouble finding an anecdote for him, my Liege." The Lord Demeni stated. He had been silent for most of the time. Partly because he did not wish to be in the way, and partly because he did not want to add to the embarrassment that he knew Faramir was feeling.

"What for?" Aragorn asked confused. He could not imagine what use the Lord thought it would be.

"To cure the poison." The Lord Demeni thought it was rather obvious.

Faramir suddenly realised what he had meant, but merely shook his head. Then he noticed the fact that Aragorn was still confused.

"Try to follow his line of though." He suggested. "I trust he means _antidote_, if I am mistaken I am not staying here long enough to find out what he really is after."

Aragorn managed to keep from chuckling. "You need not worry my Lord. I can deal with this." He tried to keep from smiling amused as well, it would be rather unkind to Faramir. Especially since he was going to have to treat the wound.

"We shall try some salve that I have and see if that takes care of it." He decided. "It should be sufficient."

Faramir nodded.

Aragorn smiled at him as he rolled down his shirtsleeve and laced up the cuff again.

"I'll give you some and allow you to do it yourself."

"Thank you sire." It was not the thought of Aragorn treating it that he feared, but the thought of how the good Lord would manage to misinterpret it if he was given the chance.

Back in his chamber he spread the salve over the reddened area. It felt soothing when he applied it at least. It was annoying the way I itched all the time. It was all he could do to keep from scratching it.

He woke up in the middle of the night because the itching had increased, and so had the headache as well. Rubbing his eyes tiredly he reached for the salve. Again spreading it over his flesh. The rough reddened area had spread down to his hand, and was creeping up his neck, but he was to tiered to worry about it. When he was done he tucked his hand beneath his pillow to keep from scratching it, and then went back to sleep.

This is temporarily, thought it is not an temporary end, instead it is merely temporary. A temporary pause until the next part is posted. See, we did two words in one thing, and two words makes two parts. This was part one, and therefore the next shall be part two. I would have made it part three, except there were only two as I said before.

So until next week when I post the next chapter, this is temporarily all there is. I promise I shall have it up next week.

I hope that you all liked this, and that you shall like the rest as well. If you did, then please review.

* * *

Silver Sniper: Oh I love your enthusiasm, you make me feel wanted and appreciated. Be assured that I shall always do my best to follow my update schedule, this one once weekly, the rest I post when I am done with it. 

Since this tale is divided in two parts I was not able to make a temporary ending, but for your sake I was able to make it at least partly temporary. I hope that it is enough and that you like this.

Lindahoyland: Faramir is shy, that is mostly it, but fear not, he has humour and he shows it at times. I mostly try to find the balance when he would feel enough at ease to joke. As for Eomer and insults. I have written it, and it only needs a finishing touch now, I should be able to post that as soon as this two part is done.

Earendil Eldar: Did I make a mistake with that? I had only the Latin and that translation when I did it. Not the actual movie so I had to try and remember if it was right. It is however Monty Python, and if you like that, I will say this. My collection now contains two rabbits with sharp pointy teeth, one white, one bloody. The cow catapult, complete with Trojan rabbit and other animals, and the black knight, with limbs that can be removed and stuck back on again. I love them, they are awesome.

Mysterious Jedi: I am glad that you like it. I try my best to make it funny, and it seems I have done fairly well. I appreciate your support and comments very much. Please keep sending them, they make my day.

* * *

Here I would like to thank everyone who reads my works, thank you. 

Here it must also be said that in the tale "A Two Colour Chain Mail," we started the vote based on the fact that Sean Bean and David Wenham made the perfect image of two brothers. We also got plenty of agreement on that.

So here it is, if you agree with us and think that they should be real brothers. Say so in your review. It shall be your vote. On my authors page, in the bio I shall keep score. When the score reaches 100, they shall be declared official brothers. Then on my authors page shall be an official declaration written by Elenhin and Celebrion.

Then the truth can not be denied, they shall be brothers.

/Elenhin


	10. The Continuing Anecdote, part two

Author's Note: This is a bit of a joke that I wrote with the help of a friend. We thought that Faramir was skilled at different languages, and wondered just what languages he could speak.

Trying to think of as many as possible, and writing a story on each. Some languages will be from Lord of the Ring, some will not, but we will name them and where they come from. So Have no fear

The Lord Demeni is not an evil lord, he is merely a bit confused at times. (Read that as all the time.) He always means well, but not necessarily what he says. He might say a word while actually meaning to say another word, or he thinks the meaning of the word is entirely different from what he means.

Using misinterpretations of the English Language was an idea that Breon Briarwood gave me, and I have used it, so if you like it, give some credit there. Lord Demeni shall appear later as well.

This is pretty much a sequel to Poisoned Potion, as this picks up where that one left off. Reading this chapter without reading that chapter first can be confusing. That means it will be even more confusing than the normal level on my works. So please make sure to read that chapter first.

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Ring, I only borrow parts of it and shall return them as soon as I am done. Completely undamaged, as I am certain it will be impossible to see where we glued the pieces back together.

I own the Lord Demeni and the Lord Barladro, and anyone who think himself or herself able to guess at the meaning of those names are welcome to do so.

And now for something completely different, a story instead of a note. Please read this creation of mine that somehow was called a story.

* * *

The Continuing Anecdote, Part Two 

Here is the second part as was promised, a Scout always keeps word, and I am a scout. I have kept my word and that word is now safe in a box where I keep it until I need it again.

Seriously here is the Second part of the tale, as was promised, the temporary pause is no more, but then again that might be temporarily, as we might do something in two parts again.

* * *

When Faramir entered Aragorn's study the next morning he had his hands clasped behind his back, since that iron clasp was the only thing that kept him from scratching. 

A few of the Councillors was already there.

"Greetings sire, my Lords." He bowed. Aragorn might prefer if he did not, but the Lord's would consider it a scandal. He had been brought up to the bowing and the other attics of the court, and so it came natural to him.

Aragorn looked at him, blinked and stared at him. "Faramir, are you feeling well?" He asked. He did not wish to say that the rash had spread to climb up his neck, and was now fully visible, outright.

"What is that?" The Lord Barladro was not so sensitive.

Faramir squirmed uncomfortably, he had felt the itch, but he had hoped it would go undetected. He had rubbed more salve on it as soon as he had awoken.

Aragorn thought he looked both embarrassed and slightly confused.

"The rash has spread, and it looks rather bad." He said quietly, he had stepped up close to the younger man. To keep the others from overhearing.

"I was afraid of that." He rubbed a tiered hand across his forehead. "To afraid to look."

Aragorn gave him a faint smile. "The salve I gave you obviously did not help. I shall look at it again."

"Later, I trust." Faramir said worriedly.

"I must say that it looks rather ugly." Lord Barladro stated.

Aragorn glared at him, and Faramir turned his eyes away.

"My Lord, that was uncalled for." Aragorn said sternly.

Unfortunately the Lord Barladro's comment had already drawn much attention towards Faramir. He forced himself not to squirm beneath their gaze. His hands clasped tightly behind his back since he still had an extreme urge to scratch.

The winning comment came, not surprisingly from the Lord Demeni.

"I hope that it is nothing continuously." He stated, obviously curious in spite of his desire to avoid offending.

"_Continuously_." Aragorn noted. He did not want to offend Faramir, nor add to his embarrassment, but he truly wanted to know what the Lord meant.

"Lord Faramir, I truly mean no offence of any kind, but it does look rather unpleasant and if it were to spread," He broke off when he realised that if he were to continue he would be as rude as the Lord Barladro.

"Do not tell me he means _contagious_." Faramir mumbled.

"It is the good Lord Demeni." Aragorn pointed out. "I am afraid he means just that. Aragorn patted his shoulder in a comforting gesture. "Faramir, head over to my chambers. I will come as soon as I have taught these people some manners."

"Thank you sire." Faramir performed a hurried bow, and left almost as hurriedly.

Aragorn sighed, as amusing as Demeni was, the Lord's had behaved rather inappropriate, even considering to way they usually behaved.

"Lord Barladro." Aragorn suddenly found himself at a lack of words. "You have outdone yourself." He turned to face the others. "My Lord's, you are excused." He said sternly. He had a feeling that whatever he said it would not be enough to make them understand.

In his chambers Arwen had gotten hold of Faramir. He was modest, but she was persistent. She had managed to make him roll up his sleeve enough to reveal the original injury. Considering that she was a queen to start with, and an elf, and that Faramir was painfully shy around all females. Not to mention how modest he was around anyone with noble blood. It was quite an accomplishment.

"Faramir you should not listen to Barladro."

"He is speaking to loud to be easily ignored. Faramir shrugged.

Aragorn sighed. "He is a fool."

"Yes, at least he is easier to ignore than this itch is." Faramir still had his hands clenched.

"Faramir, I'm need to see all the damage." He said. "I am afraid you must take of your shirt."

Faramir glanced at Arwen shyly.

"I do not stay to make you feel uncomfortable." She smiled. "But I have some skills at healing as well, and I might be able to help."

She spoke the truth, she was quite skilled as a healer. Reluctantly he pealed of the shirt. He would have kept it on enough that it still covered his other arm and that side of his chest. He did however realise that if he did that it would get in the way sooner or later. Besides, whatever modesty he could preserve by that action meant nothing, if Arwen saw one half of his bare chest. She would know what the other half looked like as well. If one took into the account that she had two brothers, and one husband, then she could probably guess at the other parts as well. He blushed and knew he could not hide it. It was just the fact that he had been raised to be modest.

It was all and well for Boromir to appear half dressed in front of his men, he had a strong build and a body that counted for something. Faramir with his much smaller frame felt like he disappeared next to his brother.

There was also the scars that he preferred to keep covered. The puckered scars where arrows had penetrated his body, an angry red scar that stood out against the paler skin on his right shoulders. The slight burn scars along his left side where the flames had fed on his clothing when the pyre he was upon had been lit. There were scars on his back from a number of floggings as well.

Even if his friends knew about these he preferred that they did not have to see them.

He turned his gaze to his left arm. The rash was spreading down his forearm, and covering his shoulder, inching it's way up his neck and down his chest. The whole left side of his upper body was taking on that red hue, and near the actual wound small blisters had formed. A few of witch had burst when he had not been able to keep from scratching.

"There is a plant called _Winters bloom_, it has a poison that causes reactions like this one." Arwen noted. "What have you used to treat it this far?"

"An ordinary soothing salve, I thought it would be enough." Aragorn peered closer. "If it is _Winters bloom_, then it will spread along the blood veins." He traced a finger along some path on his skin. "Look here, it is doing that. The irritation of the skin is strongest along the path of the veins. Faramir, show me your other hand." He took his right hand in his and pointed to where a slight discoloration had reddened the skin of his palm and fingers.

"When you spread the salve on it, and when you scratched at it, it began to spread to your other hand as well." He stated.

"Sire, then you shall suffer it as well." Faramir looked horrified at Aragorn's hand where they held his arm.

"No, it does not spread by touch like that." Aragorn soothed him. "Not unless you already have it in your blood. I can treat you without being bothered by it." Then he grew more serious. "I can treat this with some herbs I have. But if we mainly rub them onto your skin it shall take time, since the wound has closed. It is effectively holding the poison inside your body."

"You want to open it up again." Faramir had no problem reaching that conclusion. He could tell by Aragorn's expression that it was something decidedly unpleasant, and he was hard pressed to come up with anything more unpleasant than cutting the wound open again. He knew it did not hurt all that much, it just seemed like a bad idea to reopen a wound that had already closed. "I suppose it is for the best. Though I can not say I care for the idea."

"Neither do I." Aragorn said soothingly. "But it could well be weeks before it healed fully otherwise. This way we can take care of it within one or two."

"Come, it shall be best to deal with it as soon as possible. I shall brew you a tea that will dampen the pain."

When the wound was again laid open Aragorn doused it with his herbs. He also steeped the herbs in water and soaked a piece of cloth in it. Draping it over Faramir's body so that it lay against his skin and the herbs could work.

It would take many days for the rash to disappear fully, and he could not stay abed for all that time. Later Aragorn would use a salve instead, but this method was more effective in the beginning and would allow him to heal faster.

Since the cloth was soaked in the water often the effect it had never wore of. The salve would since clothes rubbed against the skin. It would however do well enough once the worst of the rash had worn off.

A few days later it had faded enough that the Lord's no longer noticed it. A few more days after that it was almost completely gone. Just a reddened patch of skin around the wound, no bigger than the palm of his hand. He was incredible grateful to the King. It was true, he did have the hands of a healer.

What mattered more to Faramir was that the owner of those hands called him a friend.

* * *

Not the end, surely that can not be. This is just a temporarily end, right?

* * *

Here I would like to thank everyone who reads my works, thank you. 

Here it must also be said that in the tale "A Two Colour Chain Mail," we started the vote based on the fact that Sean Bean and David Wenham made the perfect image of two brothers. We also got plenty of agreement on that.

So here it is, if you agree with us and think that they should be real brothers. Say so in your review. It shall be your vote. On my authors page, in the bio I shall keep score. When the score reaches 100, they shall be declared official brothers. Then on my authors page shall be an official declaration written by Elenhin and Celebrion.

Then the truth can not be denied, they shall be brothers.

* * *

LalaithoftheBruinen: I can assure you that Faramir found it rather annoying as well, but do not worry as he has Aragorn as his friend. He takes good care of Faramir. 

Earendil Eldar: I envy you, I do not have any Lord of the Ring figures yet, have not been able to afford them. I am however thinking of buying a Faramir no matter what it costs, and a Boromir to go with it.

Aside from that, what was it you said some time ago, about us not having tortured him yet, we have now. Right? :) I hope you think that we did it well.

Silver Sniper: Yes, we are two who are writing this, at times. I write most of it, and Celebrion writes some of it. This far he has written the first chapter where we had Friar Carl in it, as well as some translations. He is very grateful that you noticed him. This time I put the most temporary thing in the beginning, surprising, heh. I hope that this was worth all the waiting you did.

Horsiegurl: I am very glad that you like it. I update this weekly, and then I throw up other things at times. About whenever I have something ready.

Lindahoyland: Ah, but of course Aragorn knows the _anecdote_, he is also a very good friend, and just the kind of friend Faramir needs. Faramir is very shy, it is partly his nature and partly how he was brought up. I have much experience of how that works in combination, and therefore it shall be time before he is fully at ease with Aragorn, but Aragorn is getting him there.

If you thought that this was hilarious, you should see what comes up ahead. Now I have teased you a little, but I do think that you shall like the next few chapters.

silvren ithildin: Of course I keep writing, I live for writing. It is just that some things are not Lord of the Ring. What say we still, it shall be interesting to see the response when the translation is finished. You have done a great job with it.

Rana Ninque: Thank You, for the vote and for the kind words. We try to use as many different languages as possible, but there will be more of Lord Demeni as well. He is very fun to write and it is interesting to see what one can make out of the same language. There are however some stories without him coming now. I hope that you shall like them.

Thank You all for reading and reviewing, Elenhin.


	11. Oh, Bollocks

Author's Note: This is a bit of a joke that I wrote with the help of a friend. We thought that Faramir was skilled at different languages, and wondered just what languages he could speak.

Trying to think of as many as possible, and writing a story on each. Some languages will be from Lord of the Ring, some will not, but we will name them and where they come from. So Have no fear

This chapter is based on the movie 'Crocodile Hunter, Collision Course.' In one of the roles was David Wenham, noted mostly for the way he said 'Oh, sugar,' whenever things went wrong, as they did quite often.

Since the Friar Carl as another Wenham role was popular we decided to try and make another one guest appearance. We could not get the actual character of Sam Flynn in, but we got his most notable line instead. I hope that you shall like it.

It has been noticed that my tales contains the occasional spelling error, or not so occasional at times. I am sorry about these, and I do try to avoid them. I simply am a perpetual spelling disaster. Please take no offence. Besides, it can be considered an act of kindness to support your local spelling disaster.

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Ring, I only borrow parts of it and shall return them as soon as I am done. Completely undamaged, as I am certain it will be impossible to see where we glued the pieces back together.

I do not own Lord of the Ring, nor any character from it, nor Sam Flynn from Crocodile Hunter.

Theod, Finduella, Mirthilil andFaronella are my own characters.

* * *

Oh, Bollocks 

There was a loud crash and Faramir looked up, brightly coloured wooden blocks littered the carpet. In the middle of the chaos was a small toddler. Mirthilil.

He smiled as the child giggled. Being allowed to play in his father's study was something the child found very exciting, even if he had done so before. He had brought heaps of toys with him, and spread all of them out on the carpet. Lead soldiers, wooden horses and the wooden blocks that he would build tall towers of.

There was a new baby now, this time a girl. Something that he was very glad for, then Finduella would have another girl to play with. Eowyn had named the little baby girl Faronella. He liked that name and he adored the infant.

Since the baby was a mere few months old, and both mother and child needed some rest still, they had agreed that a very active three year old was not the best thing to have in the nursery. The older siblings was all to happy to play with him and watch over him, but Faramir thought that they should be allowed to play by themselves as well. Therefore he took little Mir with him to his study. The child could play while he worked, and it was such a joy to have him there.

He was the most adorable thing when he played with the soldiers. He would move a soldier, then stop and frown. "Papa, whatever do the soldiers do when they get hungry. Can they just stop fighting and eat?" Ever curious he wanted his questions answered, and who could answer them better than his father, whom had been a soldier himself.

Faramir would then lay down the document for a moment and explain it to him. That the soldiers would eat after they were done fighting.

Then the child would thank him and go back to playing again, and Faramir would return his attention to his documents. He did not mind the interruptions, they kept the work from being too tedious as he was allowed to smile so often.

Now the child was attempting to build a castle out of the blocks, for the soldiers, but the blocks kept falling down with a crash. At first he giggled at the crash, but then he was beginning to get frustrated with their lack of cooperation.

At the sound of the next crash Faramir looked up startled, for there was also the sound of the child's voice then.

"Bollocks!" He cried as he regarded the scattered blocks again.

"Mir." Faramir was not sure he had heard right, did the child truly know that word. "What was that you said."

Mir looked up at him, still annoyed at the disloyal blocks, but smiling at his father nevertheless. "Bollocks." He said cheerfully.

Faramir sighed, the child should not say such words. If Elboron had taken to using swear words in front of his younger siblings he would talk with him about it.

"Come here Mir." He said softly. Since the child had no notion what he had just said it would do no good to scold him. As he came over he pulled him up into his lap.

"Where have you heard that word?" He asked him. Mir had forgotten about the blocks and was now smiling as happily as always.

"I heard it from the soldiers." He said happily. "When we were with them."

"Aha." Faramir nodded, now he understood what it came from. "Well, you see Mir that soldiers tend to speak a certain way, and it is not always a nice way. That word you heard is really a rather bad word." He explained carefully.

"Why do they use it then?" The child asked curiously. Giving his father his full attention.

"They use it because it is a bad word, they want to sound bad, hoping that their enemy will think that they are bad. You see if the enemy thinks that, they will not want to fight them." He knew he was being a little free with the truth, but how did one explain swear words and curses to a three year old boy.

"I think I understand that." Mir nodded seriously. "But if they do it to scare the people the fight against, why do they do it when they are home?"

"It becomes a habit." He stated. "They get so used to doing it that they do it all the time. But it really is not a nice word and I do not want you to use it."

"Okay." Mir beamed happily. Then he frowned thoughtfully. "But what am I to say then, I must say something." He sounded so pleading that Faramir felt sorry for him, or not exactly sorry for him, but he wanted to help him. For he was so cute when he did it."

We shall find something else for you to say." He promised. "Something that not even the soldiers know about."

"Really." Mir began bouncing on his lap with excitement.

"Yes." Faramir promised. "How about we take something from a tongue that they do not know. We can take Gaelic, and then not even them will know what it is."

"Oh please." Mir squealed delighted. "Please papa."

"Let us see, what shall we take," Faramir said thoughtfully. "Oh I know, _Ó siúcra_. How does that sound."

Mir repeated the word several times until he got it just right. "Thank you Papa." He grinned, pressing a wet noisy kiss to his fathers cheek before jumping down to play with the blocks again.

At the next crash there came a loud declaration as well. "_Ó siúcra_." With the child's loud voice. It sounded funny as his voice was so merry at the new word he was allowed to use.

Faramir could not help but chuckle at him. He was such a sweet little boy.

Later that evening they were all gathered in the sitting room. Elboron reading, Theod and Finduella awning at their little sister in their mothers arms. Little Mir was to short to reach up to have a look as well.

Shrugging displeased came the word that Faramir was now beginning to get used to. "_Ó siúcra_." Before he coaxed Theod into lifting up him so that he to could see the baby.

Even later when the children had all been put to bed Eowyn confronted him. He stood by the crib with the infant in his arms, loath to let go of her. Even if it was merely for the night.

"What was it that Mir kept saying?" She asked.

"Oh, just something that I taught him." Faramir stroked the soft cheek with a gentle finger, such a precious life.

"Do not awake her." Eowyn warned. "And what does it mean."

Reluctantly Faramir tucked the child in into the crib. "I thought it was better than Bollocks, which he said first, as he had heard some soldiers use it."

"I won't know if it is better until I know what it is." Eowyn frowned. "Are you going to tell me?"

"Translated it means '_Oh, sugar_.' Is that so bad?" He smiled. "I told him it was in Gaelic so that it would sound better. If he had thought it was boring he would just go back to Bollocks, and I would rather he did not say that."

"I think I can agree with you on that." Eowyn smiled. "But just wait until he finds out you tricked him into saying something so lame."

"How would he find out?" Faramir looked longingly towards the crib. Then he remembered something. "Else than you tell him." He stated. "Eowyn, I do not do this to fool him, neither did I tell him that it was anything else. I merely said that it was a tongue that the soldiers did not know."

"I shall not tell him." Eowyn moved up beside him and embraced him. "Come to bed now love, tomorrow shall be as busy as today was, we both need sleep."

Knowing she was right Faramir hugged her and kissed her one last time, then slipped in beneath the covers. Just as he was on the verge to sleep there was a loud wail from the crib. Someone did not agree with the idea of a good night's sleep.

It was near dawn when the infant finally settled and allowed him to sleep. He had taken the wailing child to his study as not to wake Eowyn, she needed to sleep as well. When it was not feeding that was needed he usually tried to allow her to sleep.

The next day Mir playing on the floor was not enough to keep him awake. His eyes drifted close and he fell asleep over the desk.

He was however not allowed to sleep long as Mir wanted to play battle with his father. He soon found himself seated cross legged on the floor with lead soldiers in front of him, trying to focus on the battle even as he was struggling to keep his eyes open.

As he lost the battle and saw his army being conquered by a three year old there was only one thing that seemed to fit the situation.

"_Ó siúcra_." He muttered quietly under his breath.

As the army has been defeated there is nothing more to gain here for the moment, and therefore we shall have to return later. Until then, a temporary ending to you all, and may it be a happy one.

* * *

Pronounciation Guide by Celebrion: 'Ó siúcra' is as stated in the Gaelic tongue now mostly found in the western parts of Ireland. My own (continuing) encounter with the language first taught me the complex pronounciation rules and I thought it might be nice to let you know how to say it. The best transscription I could think of looks like this for an Englishspeaker 'Oh shookra' with a short 'a' as in 'a short 'a''. PS. Don't loose hope, more of this wonderful (read: accursed) language to come!

* * *

Here I would like to thank everyone who reads my works, thank you.

Here it must also be said that in the tale "A Two Colour Chain Mail," we started the vote based on the fact that Sean Bean and David Wenham made the perfect image of two brothers. We also got plenty of agreement on that.

So here it is, if you agree with us and think that they should be real brothers. Say so in your review. It shall be your vote. On my authors page, in the bio I shall keep score. When the score reaches 100, they shall be declared official brothers. Then on my authors page shall be an official declaration written by Elenhin and Celebrion.

Then the truth can not be denied, they shall be brothers.

* * *

katieelessar: Thank you very much, both for the encouragement and the vote. I am glad that you like it, and I hope that you shall do so in the future as well.

Lindahoyland: Thank you, I could just see him blushing as well. I agree that we see him pretty much the same way, and therefore we understand what the other is doing very well. I always looks forward to whenever you make your next update.

Lalaithofthebruinen: Van Helsing is a great movie, and Carl is very likable. I am glad you got to see it. Car accident sounds bad, both on you and the car. I'm glad that you were still enjoying this thought. Always tries to brightens peoples lives up. :)

Horsiegurl: Aragorn is always willing to help everyone, but I see him as keeping an extra eye on our favourite Steward. Lord Demeni is really fun to write because it is a challenge to find the words he would mix up, and then twisting it into the plot line. I am glad that you like our good Lord.

Silver Sniper: You have made it into a pleasant challenge to always try to mix something temporary in. I also tend to always go back to read old favourites, that is one of the good things with archives. I also think that this will be a good year. This far into the new Year we have had the worst storm in over twenty years. I however enjoyed the fresh winds that brought. It was not so bad, just blew down a bit to many trees.

Pasha ToH: I do not keep track of who has voted already and who has not. So you take it from there. I am however very glad that you like what we are doing with it.

silvren ithildin:I think that we have already established the fact that Aragorn is a skilled healer. Beside he has already saved Faramir once, I do not think he would want all that work to have been for nothing.

Mysterious Jedi: Thank you for the vote, and for the kind words. I try to do my best to please everyone.


	12. Faramir's Friar in French

Author's Note: This is a bit of a joke that I wrote with the help of a friend. We thought that Faramir was skilled at different languages, and wondered just what languages he could speak.

Trying to think of as many as possible, and writing a story on each. Some languages will be from Lord of the Ring, some will not, but we will name them and where they come from. So Have no fear

Since Carl was so beloved, and since we promised to do him again, and again, here he is.

Since I have already given Carl away, I might warn you that we are not doing Latin here, instead we are doing French.

The translation of the Official Swedish Scout Song into French was made by silvren ithildin, as well as betaing. So credit for that work goes there.

Carl is from Van Helsing, and both he and Faramir is played by the same actor, David Wenham, in case there is someone who did not know this.

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Ring, I only borrow parts of it and shall return them as soon as I am done. Completely undamaged, as I am certain it will be impossible to see where we glued the pieces back together.

Do not own Van Helsing either, and unfortunately Carl belongs to the Van Helsing movie.

Here is the tale as we will tell it.

* * *

**Faramir's Friar in French**

Friar Carl was, not surprisingly, seated at a table surrounded by bookshelves. There were several small mountains of books in front of him. Small when compared to the highest mountain on the planet Tellus that was. The corner of the library where he had taken refuge was in the least used part of the library. It was very seldom used by anyone else as the books there was of little interest to them.

Carl however had a habit to search out all the oddest texts, and as a direct result of this the others shook their heads at him.

Another thing that came out of this part not being frequently used was the dust that covered every horizontal surface. Actually it had found some way to cling to the vertical surfaces in thick layers as well, but he was still searching for an expression referring to that phenomenon.

There was only one expression that seemed to cover it, and he rather liked that phrase, it seemed to suit all of it. Dusty shelves, old brittle texts and the air of a place forgotten.

This corner was what he called his _Kingdom of Dust_. It was where he stowed away from monks that was so busy praying that they had time for nothing else. He did not mind the fact that they prayed so much. If nothing else it kept them from bothering him, but they tended to insist that he should pray as well. That was a bit annoying.

The good thing was that none of them was brave enough to battle the giant dust moats in order to find him, thus he was safe here.

Today however there was a touch of dread in the otherwise dusty air. How did the dust manage to cling to the air in thick dusty clouds anyway. It could not be Van Helsing. That would have been dreadful enough. It was one thing to cling to vertical surfaces that it should not be able to cling to in the first place, but the very air, that was even more impossible. Carl rather liked Van Helsing, if nothing else he saw a worth in Carl, and not many did that.

The unfortunate thing was that people and various other creatures tended to want to kill said Van Helsing, and if Carl was near, they were rarely picky about the fact that it would include killing him as well, and he was sort of trying to avoid getting killed. Being near Van Helsing, even if he was nice, made that rather hard. Anyway, he was nowhere near the Vatican for the moment, and strange as he was, he was usually where he was and not somewhere else entirely.

Anyway, that feeling that was clinging in the dust clouds was not really dread, it was just something that was not quite what it should be, and that could be anything.

He looked up at the tall man standing next to a book shelf. He wore travelling clothes of a rough material and a cloak that that was tattered and in a colour that would fade in well among trees. It made a fairly good job of fading in amongst the books as well. He had seen this man before.

"I should rather have expected it to be you." He muttered as he closed the book in front of him.

"You are not surprised then." Faramir offered a warm smile and a formal bow.

"Why, not at all. So many strange things occur here that one more hardly makes a difference." Carl peered at him. "Still, why are you here this time?"

"I am here because you can read this." He pulled out a few sheets of paper from a leather scrip that was partly hidden by the cloak. "And I can not. I recognise the language as coming from here. But I do not speak it, nor read it."

Carl eagerly took the papers from his hands. "Well, since this is French, not the most common form mind, I am not really all that surprised that you don't."

"Am I right in my belief that you know it then?" Faramir took a seat at the table.

"Yes, quite." He leafed through the papers. "Is this really the only reason you have come here." As he spoke he tilted his head just the slightly sideways to peer at him.

He gave Faramir the impression that he had ignored what was happening around him in the world, in favour of reading some book or ancient text. It now appeared as if he had just closed the book, looked at what had occurred in the world during the time he read, and was now trying to figure out what he saw. His slightly hunched posture and the way his hair fell down near covering his eyes made it look as if he had no clue whatsoever as to what was going on around him.

To some extent it was true. Carl read his books, and he was a genius when it came to inventing weapons, but he was a bit ignorant as to what went on outside the Vatican. It was a rather endearing trait, but it also made for interesting conversations at times.

Another thing Faramir liked about the Friar was that he spoke his mind, a bit thoughtless at times. He strongly believed that he had narrowly escaped being punched for it several times, but he did speak his mind.

"It was the only excuse to come here that was good enough." Faramir smiled. "But I cannot say that I do not enjoy your company. You are a very interesting man."

"Well, this is rather interesting." Carl frowned. "Where did you get this?"

"The _Realm of Dust_." Faramir grinned as Carl looked up. "I have been told that I may not call it _Kingdom of Dust_, ere the King of our land might take offence."

"I see." Carl nodded. "A pity."

Faramir chuckled. "I think I could get away with it if I truly wanted. With the exception of me there is only one other man that ever ventures there, and that _is_ the King of our land. He agrees with me that it is a fitting title. I went into the oldest part of it once as a child, and one can still see my footprints from then in the dust I am sure."

"You should look into that corner then." Carl motioned into the general direction of his left. Somehow managing to include the area both in front of him and behind him in that gesture as well. "I am certain that if I move enough dust out of the way I will find tomes underneath it, but this far I have been unable to."

"I might take a look before I leave." Faramir stated. "For now I would ask that you read me that text."

"Dou you wish me to read it out loud to you, or just to translate it?" Carl asked, still focused on the papers and so sounding rather distracted.

"Since I would like to gain a better understanding of it, please read it." Faramir smiled.

"Very well then." Carl began reading, it was clear from the beginning that this was either a poem or a song, but then he had been able to see that before. What Faramir wanted now was an understanding of how it was spoken. He had been able to guess at the pronunciation, but he wanted to know it for certain.

Carl's voice was more pleasant to listen to than most of the monks would willingly have given him credit for. It came from the fact that Carl truly enjoyed these things. He knew the language, but here was an ancient text that he had never read before.

"On est les scouts de Suédois.

et le serment on donne heuresement.

un journée scintillement de printemps si libre.

est ecrit clairement sur nos coeurs

pour Dieu, pour Roi, pour notre pay  
n'importe où to te trouve  
soyez préparé toujours alors  
avec coeur, ésprit et ton main

notre loi est le joie et paix  
d'aider toujours et supporter

leve aux ciel notre chanson

notre obligation et fardeau fier

less les l'espace a l'etroit d'ames  
hors de jusqu'au les forets larges,  
ou montagnes et vallees de La Suede

ou le vent soufflé

on est les scouts de Suedois  
on ecoute et on observe  
Sur les traines du fourmis, et le cri des faucons  
sur tout qu'on vois et sentons  
le faible on lui donne notre courage  
fardeaux lourds que nous eclairons  
tout pour ques qui est bonne et correct  
on sacrifice heuresement notre sang

etre preparee pour entendre l'hurlement du tempete  
en temps qu'il voyagent partout le monde  
gardez votre arc ficelé, gardez votre  
point du fleche brillent  
maintenant est le temps pour  
maintenant on attache le bande de nos freres

en amour et l'amite doux  
maintenant on le faites complete et vraie.

"It sounds wonderful." Faramir sated. "A beautiful language. Can you give me the translation of if now?" He asked hopefully.

"Of course." Carl nodded. He had been working it out as he read through the text. "Shall I read that as well, or would you prefer to have it written down?"

"Oh, please read it." Faramir smiled eagerly. "I should be able to write it down."

"I'll read it slowly then." Carl took up the paper again.

"We are Swedish Scouts,

and the oath we gladly gave.

A sparkling day of spring so free,

are written clear upon our hearts.

For God, for King, for our country.

Wherever you may find your self.

Be prepared always then,

With heart, spirit and your hand."

He got no further for now Faramir was laughing so hard he could hardly hold on to the quill.

"What is so funny?" Carl asked, wondering whatever he should be offended or not. Faramir was laughing, that much was certain, and he began laughing as he read. The question was, was he laughing at Carl or at something else. He wanted to know that, for if Faramir was laughing at him, then he would be offended.

"I mean no offence my friend, it is just that I have encountered this particular text before." Faramir was no longer laughing, but smiling happily. "It was not in that French tongue then. It was in a language called Swedish."

"Swedish, I do not think I have encountered that." Carl said thoughtfully.

"It is not very well known. I encountered it once and learnt it, then a friend of mine had found a document about an organization called 'Scouts'." Faramir explained. "The Scout group in Sweden, that's the country, used to sing this song."

"Ah, well then." Carl nodded, satisfied about the reason for the laughter. "We shall see how the rest of it reads." He began reading again.

"Our law is joy and peace,

to always help and support.

Raise to the sky our song,

our duty and proud burden.

Leave the souls cramped space,

out to the wide forests,

to Sweden's mountains and valleys.

Where sweet the wind blows.

We are Swedish Scouts

We listen and we watch.

On the ants trail, and the falcons cry.

On all we see and sense.

The weak we give our courage,

heavy burdens we enlighten.

All for what is good and right.

We gladly sacrifice our blood.

Be prepared hear the storm howl,

as it travels through the world.

Keep your bow strung, keep your

arrowhead shining.

Now is time for tying bands.

Now we tie our brothers band,

in love and sweet friendship.

Now we make it whole and true,

around whole Sweden's land."

He finished and laid down the paper. "It does sound rather nice, even translated like this." He allowed. Then his curiosity took over. "Where did those 'Scouts' come from?" He asked.

"This world." Faramir looked at the paper again, there were a few more lines on it that he could not read. "That is all I know, maybe that can tell more." He pointed at the lines.

"Oh, yes. I had forgotten about them, let see now." Carl muttered. "The first camp was in 1907, on an island belonging to England. It appears the Scouts spread and a few years after that they got to Sweden, and then this song came to be."

Then thought caught up to the good Friar. "That does not make sense." He frowned at the paper again." This can not be."

"Why, what is the matter?" Faramir was beginning to grow concerned as he saw his baffled expression.

"Why, this." Carl pointed at the paper. "It sets the date as 1907. That is hundreds of years away from now. It can not be, there is no such thing in England."

Faramir chuckled. "So it is here a bit early. Somehow that do not surprise me. I found it in Minas Tirith, and it being here early is no stranger than it being there." He smiled warmly at the confused friar. "Strange things occur in the _Kingdom of Dust_ my friend. One never can tell what one shall see next there. I would not fret over it."

"But how can it be." Carl's glance darted of to the side as if he feared some monster would come out of the shadows. Some monster more dangerous than a gigantic dust mouse.

"I can not tell you that." Faramir shook his head. "I do not even dare to try to understand it. I fear I would lose my sanity if I did, but we both has seen it, and so I guess that it is."

"You might." Carl gave him a pointed look. "I am a man of science, if there is an explanation to this, and there should be one, than I shall devote myself to finding it."

"If you do, I would ask you to share it with me." Faramir smiled. "Until then I would ask you to share your knowledge of this French tongue with me."

"Easily done." Carl was now temporarily distracted from the mysterious ways documents and books used to move between different libraries. Instead he set to the task of teaching the other man French.

Had Eowyn seen them she would have said that they shared some likeness to each other. Not just in the love for lore and faded old documents, but in appearance as well. Both men had a certain air about them, and in the dusty room, one could just make that out.

Since Eowyn was not there, that likeness would never be detected. Or would it, has it been noted that there is a resemblance between them. Stranger things has been know to happen, there in the darkest corner of the long forgotten realm, _the Kingdom of Dust_.

* * *

This was a longer chapter as that has been requested, there will however be a temporary end as usual, and that is here. I hope you all enjoy the temporary pause until the next time when all begin anew. 

_Pronounciation Guide by Celebrion:_

_I have absolutely no idea how to say most of this harangue, but I think I got through it somewhat correctly (it's a little ability of mine to see how most words are pronounced)._

_If you've ever seen Monty Python and the Holy Grail, you'll remember the outrageous French accent. (Why do yoo think I 'ave this outraegeuos accent?) It worked pretty well for me. And if any French speakers out there now want to kill me, I have but one thing to say to them: "You'll have to find me to kill me! Mohahahahahahaha!"_

* * *

Here I would like to thank everyone who reads my works, thank you.

Here it must also be said that in the tale "A Two Colour Chain Mail," we started the vote based on the fact that Sean Bean and David Wenham made the perfect image of two brothers. We also got plenty of agreement on that.

So here it is, if you agree with us and think that they should be real brothers. Say so in your review. It shall be your vote. On my authors page, in the bio I shall keep score. When the score reaches 100, they shall be declared official brothers. Then on my authors page shall be an official declaration written by Elenhin and Celebrion.

Then the truth can not be denied, they shall be brothers.

* * *

Shy-Shadow Reckless: Thank you for the vote, much appreciated. I am also glad that you seem to like reading this. Your review was one of the funnier to read. I loved it, and I think that we could surely figure out some way to allow Australia some claim on Sean Bean. We shall be working on that.

Breon Briarwood: Glad to hear from you again, your reviews always means a lot to me. SO I am very glad that you like what we're doing. You have given us much help with it. Thank you.

Katieelessar: I agree, blood and clashing swords are usually more fun, but there has to be something else to at times. Something that puts in a contrast, one always enjoys a good fight much more after a cute little kid doing cute things, like hacking an Orc into small pieces. Since we are doing all kind of weird languages we try to make them easy to understand. There shall be more of the translation guides coming as well. I can see why you would vote again, I want to as well, but from me it would not be fair and I have not voted a second time. Still, I have no way of keeping count of who has voted and who has not. If you could squeeze a vote out of one of your friends, I would add it.

silvren ithildin: I know the names are odd, but I needed more kids, and I'm not good at names. I think that they shall serve thought. I just can not see Faramir having only one kid, and Eldarion is probably close to Elboron in age. I do not see wither Faramir or Aragorn waiting long to have kids. I mean, Aragorn had to wait sixty years to get married, he will be wanting kids. Thank you again for the translation.

ForeverFaramir: Dia is Muire dhuit! I am very glad that you liked this, and I hope that you shall like what we do in the future as well.

Go raibh maith agat as ucht do focail cineál.

Slán is sláinte!

Earendil Eldar: Hi, Celebrion writing this time!

I'm responsible for the Irish Gaelic here, which I have read the last term and continuing this term. I'm also going to read Scots-Gaelic this term and it's going to be fun to compare the two! The little Scots-Gaelic I've managed to get my hands on makes me agree with you concerning the complexity of the languages, Irish Gaelic spelling sometimes makes me want to tear my hair out! And thanks for r&r, both Elenhín and I appreciate it greatly.

As for me Elenhin, always happy to read your review. I am very pleased that you like what we are doing.

Lindahoyland: As always I do my best to please. It is great to be told what lines are good, and it seems we both think that Faramir would be a great father. So when does he get kids in your fic, just kidding, but that would be great to see, since you do him so well. I can not wait for your next update.

orli's-no.1-girl: Thank you for the kind words and the vote, both are equally appreciated.

Horsiegurl: Thank you. Well, we can not have Faramir teaching his children to swear can we. We wanted to use the Oh, Sugar line, and I thought that Faramir would not get angry on the kid for having picked up a bad word, he would give him something not so bad instead.

Silver Sniper: I am glad that you do not change person depending on whatever you can log in or not, teasing. Computers can be annoying at times I know. Next time, try threats, the threat of a screwdriver in the hard drive usually works for me. I am also glad that you think this was cute, we tried to make it cute, and Mir is turning out to be a rather cute and funny kid. If you like him and have not read A Snow Ball Fight yet, I recommend you read it.


	13. Arguing Arguments

Author's Note: This is a bit of a joke that I wrote with the help of a friend. We thought that Faramir was skilled at different languages, and wondered just what languages he could speak.

Trying to think of as many as possible, and writing a story on each. Some languages will be from Lord of the Ring, some will not, but we will name them and where they come from. So Have no fear. In this chapter we are doing Gaelic, a rather old one that we also had in the chapter Oh, Bollocks.

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Ring, I only borrow parts of it and shall return them as soon as I am done. Completely undamaged, as I am certain it will be impossible to see where we glued the pieces back together.

I do not own Lord of the Ring, nor any character from it.

It has been noticed that my tales contains the occasional spelling error, or not so occasional at times. I am sorry about these, and I do try to avoid them. I simply am a perpetual spelling disaster. Please take no offence. Besides, it can be considered an act of kindness to support your local spelling disaster.

Thank you all

/Elenhin

* * *

Arguing Arguments 

Eowyn and Faramir exchanged smiles with each others, knowing smiles, because they knew the situation very well. Eomer had asked Lothiriel to marry him, and she had said yes.

Since Eomer was brother to Eowyn, and Lothiriel cousin to Faramir they both knew them rather well. They also knew how the two different cultures occasionally clashed. Since they had argued much in the same way themselves as they sought to settle the differences. That was much the same way, not fully the same way.

Eowyn would scream and curse, Faramir did not, he would instead hide away with his books and try to avoid her, witch angered Eowyn enough to seek him out and confront him. With no way to escape Faramir was then forced to speak his mind, and then they could usually find a compromise that both could agree on.

The routine had been established based on the fact that Eowyn's fiery temper caused her to say things in anger, things that Faramir always took to heart. The first time she had gone to find him he had been in the library and the hurt had been plain on his face. That had been one of the first times that she had apologized as fast as she did.

She also discovered that when she took the time to listen to him he had usually figured out a solution that both of them liked.

Eomer and Lothiriel had not worked out a routine yet. They argued, both were capable of hot temper and stinging insults. Then they were mad at each other until someone else intervened. Sometimes Eowyn spoke with Eomer and Faramir with Lothiriel, mostly it was that way. Then sometimes Eowyn would speak with Lothiriel, and those timesFaramir would speak with Eomer. Often then they were able to explain just what had angered the other.

The Prince Imrahil, Lothiriel's father, merely laughed and said that there was not a single couple that did not argue. He had faith that Eomer would not treat his daughter badly, and that his daughter could stand her ground well enough.

Neither Eowyn nor Faramir knew how this argument had begun, and neither did the couple that was arguing. Frankly theEowyn and Faramirthought that it was rather silly, for not only had they forgotten the reason, they could not keep track of the current one either.

Hence they would accuse each other for one thing, and the next second something else.

Lothiriel shouted a comment on horses and those who knew of naught else but horses and headed towards the door.

Eomer retorted with an insult about high-born ladies, and silly girls. He stood there firing insults at her as she came closer and closer to the door. Then he became quiet and had that look one had when searching for something to say.

Faramir decided that this time he would supply him with something fitting, and mayhap prove that he was not a total dullard at the same time.

"_Is tú bláth is gleoite mo shaoil, _

_dríthleach mar réaltaí ar oíche gheal."_ He whispered quietly to Eomer.

Eomer whom merely realized he had been offered a new insult roared it out. Lothiriel halted for a moment and then the door closed behind her as she had not understood what he said.

It had been loud enough, in fact it was unlikely that there was anyone who had not heard it, and that was included the rather deaf old timer that worked down in the stables. However not a single one of them understood what it was that he had just roared, and that included Eomer who stood dumbstruck. Having just realized that he had shouted something very loud, and still had no idea what he had shouted.

The only one who knew that was standing beside him and did not look like he was struggling to keep from laughing. Faramir had years of training at not giving these things away. He was not about to do that now.

Eowyn was giving him strange looks as this was the closest thing to a practical joke she had ever seen him do.

"What was that?" Eomer demanded and now he voice was cold and hard. He had a look of utter rage upon him and Faramir decided that it was probably safest not to stand so close, and so he began to carefully inch away from him.

"Uhm, _Thee the sweetest flower of my life, sparkling like stars at clear night._" He mumbled. Suddenly Eomer came to the realization that he had not shouted an extreme insult. He had shouted a compliment and a declaration of love. He was not sure whatever that was a good thing or a bad thing. He was however sure of the fact that he had been made to look the fool, and experience told him that he rather did not like that.

As a direct result of this Faramir decided that inching away slowly was not fast enough, since slow is the opposite of fast, and darted of to the side. Slipping in behind Eowyn hoping that she would not allow her brother to use his fists upon him.

Eowyn however was not in shape to protect anyone as she was doubled over with laughter. Barely aware that Faramir had slipped in behind her. She was laughing at her brother who stood clenching and unclenching his fists.

In the end Eomer decided that it was better than some alternatives of things he could have said, and that neither one in the room was likely to use any of it against him and so he relaxed.

"What tongue was that?" He inquired slowly, he was not going to pounce on the other man, but why allow him to stop worry just yet.

"Gaelic." Faramir told him, still keeping Eowyn between himself and Eomer. "Very distantly related to the Rohirric tongue."

Eomer nodded slowly, decided that it was time to allow him to relax again.

"Tell it to me again, might be useful when we try to make up." He smiled.

Faramir heaved a sigh of relief and repeated the phrase. When it was not being bellowed in rage it had a rather nice sound to it, even Eomer admitted that and went of in search for Lothiriel.

Faramir took the opportunity to head for the library, there was a book there he had been longing to read for some time now.

Eowyn followed with a smile tugging at her lips, she was not going to allow him to waste the day on dusty books. She was more minded to a good ride, and she was sure she could convince him to make her company, as she still kept a sharp dagger at her belt.

As Eomer and Lothiriel are now making up, and we all know that they would prefer to do that in private, so that there are no witness to what happened before the marriage vow. Also as Eowyn is now asking Faramir to accompany her at knife point, and I am rather certain he will not want anyone witness to that, as he likes to believe she can not push him around that much, this is what is called a temporary ending.

It is temporary because rather soon another chapter will follow.

So here it is,

_Temporarily The End._

_Pronounciation Guide by Celebrion: _

_Whee, next one up! Hopefully you enjoyed this one as well. Best transscription I could muster: _

"_Is too1 blath is gloyt mo2 shíl, drílech3 marr rreltí4arr ash5 ghel."_

_1. 't' as in 'helpless laughter'_

_2. first syllable of 'monstrous rage'_

_3. 'd' as in 'fooled King of Rohan'_

_4. same long 'r'-sound as in 'marr'_

_5. 'a-' as in 'a violent brother-in-law'_

* * *

Here I would like to thank everyone who reads my works, thank you.

Here it must also be said that in the tale "A Two Colour Chain Mail," we started the vote based on the fact that Sean Bean and David Wenham made the perfect image of two brothers. We also got plenty of agreement on that.

So here it is, if you agree with us and think that they should be real brothers. Say so in your review. It shall be your vote. On my authors page, in the bio I shall keep score. When the score reaches 100, they shall be declared official brothers. Then on my authors page shall be an official declaration written by Elenhin and Celebrion.

Then the truth can not be denied, they shall be brothers.

* * *

ForeverFaramir: Without giving anything away, I could see to giving away that we have something like that planned. We are however not sure of exactly how we shall do it. So I can not give that away. :)

Lindahoyland: It would be great if your Faramir became a father. The thing with the Friar is not so much a future Faramir, as much as a different one. As stated we have taken Carl from the Van Helsing movie, and we decided that they shared some treats with each other. More then being played by the same actor. I made the connection in the scene where we see Carl behind a mountain of books. So based on this we decided to add in Carl in our language stories.

Silver Sniper: We are utterly flattered by your kind words. Celebrion and me performed the 'they like our tales' victory dance out of pure joy. There is nothing so great as to read your wonderful reviews once we have spent twenty four hours in the 'did anyone like it' anguish.Thank you countless times more for your encouragement.

Yerathiel: Thank you, both for your kind words and the vote. It is so nice to know that we are appreciated. We hope you will like our future works as well.

Horsiegurl: Van Helsing is a new movie in witch the hero, Van Helsing, hunts Vampires, Werewolves and everything else that is evil. He is sent to Transylvania to take out Count Dracula and has an assistant with him. A very reluctant assistant it might be added. A Friar that is usually inventing different weapons for Van Helsing to use. He is a Friar in the wholly Order, but he does not always act it. Carl, claims he is allowed to curse all he want since he is not a full monk yet. He is funny, a bit cowardly but does what is needed. If you would like more info on him, tell me so and I will send you an e-mail with info and a picture or two.

Random-Battlecry: As usual we do our best, and as usual you kind words means much to us. We hope that we shall never disappoint you. Thank you any chosen number of times for you encouragement and support.


	14. Italian Insults

Author's Note: This is a bit of a joke that I wrote with the help of a friend. We thought that Faramir was skilled at different languages, and wondered just what languages he could speak.

Trying to think of as many as possible, and writing a story on each. Some languages will be from Lord of the Ring, some will not, but we will name them and where they come from. So Have no fear

This time the language we are playing with is Italian. We thought that it could be amusing. We also managed to squeeze in misunderstandings, and what they can bring about.

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Ring, I only borrow parts of it and shall return them as soon as I am done. Completely undamaged, as I am certain it will be impossible to see where we glued the pieces back together.

(PLease, we know we make spelling errors, please take no offence. We truly do our best. Besides, you should suport your local spelling disaster.)

* * *

Italian Insults

Eowyn pushed open the door to Faramir's study. It was late in the night, well past the point when he should have come to bed. Even considering the fact that he had a habit of working late.

She had been reading a book while waiting for him and had fallen asleep with it, now she awoke and it was a mere few hours from dawn. She sighed as this was turning into a routine.

The Stewards burden was not a light one, Aragorn had not deliberately heaped work upon him, but Faramir was always taking more and more work upon himself to spare Aragorn the burden. He would sit in the study every hours of the day, and a few of the nights as well if it was left to him.

It frustrated her to no end that he would never turn a task down. Whatever was asked of him he accepted even if the King said he should only do it if he truly had the time to spare for it. What hours he spent away from his desk he usually spent with their baby boy. Elboron a two year old toddler that was his father's pride and joy.

Placing the book on her bedside table she pondered what to do. She was tiring of going to drag him away from his papers every night merely because he did not have the sense to seek his bed himself. Yet how could she leave him there and sleep peacefully herself. Pulling on a robe she went to find him and root him out from behind his desk.

He was deep asleep as she had suspected, head resting on his folded arms and his hair spilling out over them. It was only yesterday that they had argued about this. Argued and she had in the end forced him to promise to try and heed her wish, then the very next night he had done the same thing again. It was so pointless, he would rest much better if he would just give up and go to bed instead of trying to keep awake and working for one more hour.

She shook his shoulder perhaps just a little harder than she had intended to. His head came up with a startled expression and a wince of pain as cramped neck muscles stretched.

"What were we discussing just yesterday?" She crossed her arms across her chest and had no difficulty to look stern.

"Eowyn, I am sorry. I truly meant to finish and go to bed." He still looked sleepy and appeared to be struggling to gather his thoughts. "It was not my intent to work so long I fell asleep, honestly."

"It never is and yet you always do Faramir. I am growing weary of it."

Yet her heart softened as she saw his face. Still sleepy he also looked ashamed and confused. She knew that he had not meant to do it again, it was just how he always wanted to finish just one more page, and how he always lost track of time when doing it. She decided that she would not scold him for it.

It was mayhap time to try something else. The book she had read while waiting for him had been part of a surprise she had been working on. Venturing into the library she had found a book about a language called Italian. She was sure she recalled Faramir mentioning it at some time. Now she had taken the book to study it so that she could surprise him. It was an introduction to the language and had held a few useful phrases. One of them a compliment that she had thought to use. Telling her love for him and asking for a kiss. It was much better than the alternative of yelling at him again.

She smiled faintly at his expression, tired eyes that he did his best to keep open, he looked slightly worried as if he feared a scolding. That was what made her reach her decision. She would not scold him since he so obviously feared she would. She would not be that cruel to him. Instead by letting him know that she had sought to learn something of what fascinated him so much she might be able to reach him better. If they could reach a better understanding about these things she might not have to drag him to bed each night, and maybe that fear for harsh words would flee from his eyes.

"_Porci._" She said. "_Anate all'infermo._"

He blinked in surprise at hearing the strange tongue from her, then understanding of what she had said came and he nodded slowly. His reaction however was not what she had expected. He stood slowly and turned to face her.

"I beg your pardon my lady that I have failed to abide by your wish once again. I fear it is but a poor gesture but if you would accept my apology I would return to bed with you now."

She in her turn was startled by the formality of his speech. He rarely spoke like that to her, but more often when he was dealing with the nobles in Council. Mayhap the language of Italian was one that craved for great formality and he was now responding to what she had said. Whatever the reason were he was returning to bed with her, and that was what she had been after all along.

Eowyn fell asleep immediately but even if he had been tired enough to fall asleep at his desk before Faramir found himself unable to do so now. He was thinking about what she had said back there. He had know she was angry, and she had due reason to be as he had promised he would try not to lose himself in his work. Yet what she had said had taken him by surprise. '_Swine, get thee to perdition._' She must really have been angry with him to speak thusly. What he could not understand was why she had used another tongue to do so. Still the words had been clear and there were no misunderstanding them. She despised him.

When Eowyn awoke in the morning Faramir was gone from the bed. She frowned as she had

thought he would sleep for a few more hours. He had been so tired when she brought him to bed. Had not even spoken much to her. Just laid down on the side of the bed that he seemed to prefer and fallen asleep. The strangest thing was that he had to have been up for some time. The cover had been tucked in neatly around her to keep her warm.

Usually when he left the bed in the morning he would just throw the cover back, if he for some reason went up during the night he would always slip out carefully to keep the warmth in, ever thoughtful of her. He had been gone for some time and she wondered where he had headed.

Thinking that she should find him before breaking of fast she went to his study and to the library, but both stood empty.

Other than those rooms there were no place where one could find him with regularity. She gave up the search and headed to the nursery to get Elboron before the food was served.

The first thing she saw in there was Faramir. He had stretched out on the chaise in there and was now fast asleep with Elboron in his arms. It was such a sweet sight, but why was he there? If the toddler had cried out she was certain she would have awoken, she had never failed to thus far. Even if Faramir with his Ranger training usually awoke a few seconds before her. It was possible that he had gone there to check on him and had found the child awake and uneasy. Faramir would have stayed and comforted him then.

Elboron seemed to be coming awake now. Opening sleepy eyes and a small mouth in a wide yawn. Faramir did not yet stir. Then Elboron wanted to be let down it appeared for he began squirming.

"Ada." He squealed happily. "Ada, mommy." Now Faramir began to stir slightly. It probably had to do with the fact that Elboron was tapping him on the arm with the flat of his small hand. Elboron had an interesting habit when it came to his parents. He was using a few words now, and could run around on his own. He would however refer to his mother as mommy, which was perfectly understandable. Yet he had taken to calling his father in Elvish. Ada, Eowyn had tried to get him to say papa, but since Faramir said ada, and Aragorn would also use that to him when talking with him about his father, she had not yet been able to convince him.

"Elboron, what is it little one?" Faramir was apparently awake by now, but he had not yet opened his eyes.

"It is morning Faramir." Eowyn said and watched as his eyes snapped open. "What are you doing in here instead of in bed?"

"Uhm." He rubbed a hand over his eyes. "I came in here to check on Elboron and must have fallen asleep." In full truth he had gone there after a few hours when he had still not been able to sleep. The child usually held some calming effect on him. Just holding him was so wonderful that one never wanted to let go.

Elboron however wanted to be let down on the floor, and sitting up Faramir lowered him down. As he had suspected the toddler took off as soon as his feet reached the floor. Faramir had to chuckle. How could one not be taken with the child?

If one were to speak about it Eowyn still looked rather angry. He supposed that was to be expected though. She would not use an insult like the one she had just because she was slightly annoyed with him. Eowyn did not do that.

"If you would excuse me, my lady, I would go and get ready for break of fast." He said with a small bow. Deciding that he would at least be polite no matter what. "Shall I take Elboron and get him ready?" Sometimes she seemed to prefer to do it herself, but she often allowed him to do it as she knew he enjoyed it.

"Why not if that is what you want." She shrugged. She did not like it when he spoke so formally. She had found it hard to read him then as she was used to a more informal ways. Faramir was more formal on any given day than the court in Rohan ever was. She did not believe that she would ever get used to it.

Faramir took Elboron and left the nursery with a bow to Eowyn. She had been told that Faramir was taught to bow to his elders when he was no older than Elboron. She had thus far kept him from teaching the toddler, it was not hard. Faramir wanted his child to have more of a childhood than he had had. More time to play and have fun. In Rohan the children always had fun. She and Eomer had been running around playing tag and other games with Theodred, their cousin, even in the Golden Hall. No one had thought that to be improper.

Elboron would not be trained to stop having fun just yet either. When in the throne room he would race over to the King and demand to be picked up. Tugging at the King's beard until he was given his treat, either a small piece of candy or a story.

Elboron loved the nice King and would run to him whenever he saw him. The King had a son himself. A three year old lad by the name of Eldarion. He was speaking more or less full sentences. Sometimes he would lisp at some word, and sometimes he would sound almost like an adult.

Whatever way it was Eldarion had decided that Elboron was his best friend, and made him into a cousin as he called Eowyn and Faramir aunt and uncle when they were more informal. As a result the two children was often together.

Whenever he saw them Faramir was thinking of his brother. Elboron was already favouring Boromir in looks. The hair could either be Eomer's or Boromir's, but his face carried the look of his uncle that he had never met.

It stabbed at his heart as he bathed the child. No matter how much he loved both the child, and how much he loved the fact that a small part of Boromir lived on in this child it stabbed at his heart to see such an resemblance in him. He feared that the child would meet the same end that the uncle had. Killed far away from home. Faramir knew not if he would be able to bear such news. He wanted to keep the little one close forever, even if he knew it was not possible to do so.

He ate hastily and then Elboron was taken to the nursery and he headed towards his study to work. After the lunch bell had tolled he was called into Aragorn's study.

The King looked up as he bowed deep. "Faramir, I fear that I must ask you to go over this report with me." He said. "However is it possible for so many documents to have come into being. If I did not know better I would say that my desk was a breeding ground for them. Whenever I have laid down two, there seems to be three when I pick them up again." He smiled as the joke was meant to put the younger man at easy.

"I trust that it only seems that way, sire." Faramir responded perfectly polite. Too perfectly polite Aragorn thought. He had that stiff formal posture again, which Aragorn strove so hard to rid him of. Preferring to have him more at ease in his company. "What assistance I might offer you I shall gladly give."

Aragorn frowned at the bow that followed that statement. Had he not told him numerous times that he did not wish for him to bow and scrape. He wanted him to offer insights. This was a set back and he would see what could be done about it. All in due time, if he began to question him as to why he was bowing he would only scare him off.

"I have not been able to discern anything useful from this." He said handing his Steward a paper. "You shall have to suffer my ignorance again and explain it to me." As he spoke he casually moved to near the fireplace where to over stuffed armchairs stood. "Come, let us be comfortable while we work with this tedious business."

Faramir was already deep in the document and paid no heed to where he ended up. Nor was he really aware that he was handed a goblet of sweet wine by the king.

"It is an account of our stored supplies." He said thoughtfully. "Yet it is taking into account the amount that we should have had stored, the amount we have, and the difference between the two. As well as a speculation as to how long it shall last before being depleted, as compared to how far it was originally thought to last. Going into detail about the difference between these two. It finishes with a speculation as to why they have been unable to reach the same figure twice."

"And why is that?" Aragorn questioned, slightly displeased. Faramir was utterly unaware of the fact that he had been handed wine, even if he had taken it and set it on the table with his own hand. He was clearing his throat discreetly, but had not yet taken a sip.

Faramir was beginning to pick up that the King was displeased about something, but as he had no idea of what had caused it he was beginning to get nervous.

"My lord, is aught amiss?" He asked carefully.

"No, not at all." Aragorn waved it aside with a gesture. "It was just the way it was written. Such a jumble that I was unable to get even the gist of what it was actually saying." He concentrated on smiling gratefully. "Thank you for clearing it all out for me. I am grateful Faramir, and I hope that I have not kept you from your work. I know that you are busy."

"Never too busy to help you, my lord." Faramir sketched a bow again. "If that is all I would however return to my work."

"I have not forced too much work on you Faramir, have I?" The King asked. "I would not that you remained silent if I had."

"It is not too much." Faramir bowed again as he was to step outside the room. "I bid thee the most pleasant day milord."

Aragorn muttered a silent curse as he left, because it was so impossible to make him relax. Because the younger man could not sit down and enjoy a goblet of wine with his lord, instead the goblet stood still untouched.

As the days passed his irritation gave away for concern, something was amiss with his young steward. He was always working long into the night. Too long, in fact Aragorn was doubtful whether he ever left the study to sleep. A few words with Eowyn confirmed his suspicions, she had hardly ever seen him the last number of days, and was to angry with him for it to go and drag him from the study.

Aragorn reasoned that there had to be some reason behind his behaviour and decided that it was he who should find it. It was time to confront him.

The shape the young man was in was obvious as soon as one entered the study in witch he sat. There were books everywhere. Even if this was common they were usually neatly stacked and kept on shelves, not spread out over every surface that had been almost free enough for it. No surface was free now.

Faramir was seated at the massive desk, his left hand supported his forehead and his right gripped his quill. The ink on the tip had long since dried out. Aragorn sighed as he saw before him what a week without any sleep does to a man.

Without a word he moved in behind him and raised him to his feet. Faramir had yet not turned to see who it was, and did not do so, not even when he was being led to a chaise.

"Faramir, what is going on?" He asked gripping his shoulders. "Why are you doing this?"

"Punishment." Faramir mumbled. It seemed like a punishment to Aragorn, but for what. What could he possibly have done.

"Why are you punishing yourself?" He asked. "Faramir, what have you done?"

"Doing it so that Eowyn won't have to, failed her." He speech was slurred by lack of sleep. "Worked too much, didn't pay attention to her as I should've done."

"And now you are punishing yourself with working more and staying away from her. Faramir, that makes no sense, and it will only serve to make matters worse." Aragorn sighed. "You should go to her and apologize, not digging yourself deeper into it."

"Tried apologizing first thing I did. She told me she wanted nothing to do with me. Staying away so that she would not have to see me." Faramir rubbed a hand over his face. "Thought that was what she wanted."

"What did she say?" Aragorn demanded shaking his shoulder gently. "Faramir, I do not believe that Eowyn would drive you away. She has been wrought with you for staying away."

"_Porci._ _Anate all'infermo._" Faramir murmured. "That was what she said.

"What does that mean?" Aragorn asked. He had no idea as to the meaning of those words. Faramir had a vast knowledge of languages, but he had not known that Eowyn had as well.

"_Swine, get thee to perdition._" Faramir turned his face upward and looked absolutely pitiful. "I would say that there is no mistaking that, sire. There is no way to mistaking that for anything else."

"There is one way."

Aragorn looked up startled as he had not noticed Eowyn entering. Faramir hung his head low as he had still not noticed. Not until Eowyn stepped up to him and laid a hand to his cheek.

"There is one way to mistake that Faramir, I know not how, but it has been so, for I did not mean to say that." She had gone in search for him, as she had understood that the King was about to see him, and she had wished to know if Aragorn had been able to knock some sense into her husband. What she had heard as she entered the study had surprised her, apparently it had surprised Faramir as well. He was looking at her with the most confused expression she had ever seen on a man. It did not help that he looked as if he was not quite able to keep his eyes open any longer either.

"How?" Was all he asked.

"I was wrought with you for falling asleep in here again Faramir. But I can understand why you work so much. I wanted you to know that. I found some documents on the Italian language some time ago. I wanted surprise you by knowing something about it. Because it interests you." She stroked his cheek gently with her thumb. He was silent, listening to her. "There were some phrases, what it said was a request for a kiss from a lovely man. I did not know it said something else Faramir, I truly thought that it was a compliment."

"Was not." Faramir rubbed a hand across his face again. "Thought you wanted naught more to do with me."

"Never Faramir, I want you very much. I love you very much."

"Really?" He looked at her as if he did not dare to believe it.

"More than any other." She brushed a kiss on his forehead. "I always will."

"I think that we should get your husband to bed now Eowyn." Aragorn smiled. Now he was beginning to get a fairly clear picture of what had occurred. "It will probably be easier to get a full understanding once he has slept some."

"Would you be so kind as to aid me getting him to bed, milord." Eowyn smiled sweetly at Faramir as she spoke. She truly loved the cute fool he sometimes appeared to be.

"Always ready to help a damsel with any need she might have." Aragorn smiled and hauled the steward to his feet. "Come now, no one is wrought with you Faramir, and no one wants you to go anywhere but to bed. In the morn when you are rested I think that we shall be able to straighten the most of this out." He steadied the man who wavered on his feet as he lead him towards his bedchamber.

When they reached the bed Eowyn took over and began stripping off his clothes as Aragorn bid her good night. It might not have been night in the words true meaning, but Faramir would be asleep for some time, and he strongly suspected that Eowyn would stay with him.

Faramir had rarely felt as foolish as he did when he awoke and realization of what had occurred came to him. Worst was the knowledge that he had been as great a fool as he felt. He should have spoken to her, not just assumed that she had studied a language merely to be able to insult him.

Turning his head he saw her, and she smiled at his expression. Shame, confusion and uncertainty all mingled into one expression.

"Faramir, neither of us was the lesser or greater fool." She said softly. She knew him well enough to know some of his fears. The same one usually topped the list, so she began by addressing that one. "You did naught wrong, it was both of us, we should have talked more. I should not have used something I did not have full understanding of. It was both of us. Let us just put it behind us."

He nodded slowly. "Eowyn, I am sorry. I always seems to do the wrong thing."

"No more apologies." She said softly. "I hold you to no blame, and if you hold me to none, then there is no reason to dwell on it." She smiled. "May I have my kiss now."

Knowing that it was a peace offer in a unique way he gladly gave her one. It was a way of stating that it was truly over.

"Eowyn." He asked carefully. "May I see the text you read. "I might be able to tell where it went wrong." He moved to get up but she stopped him.

"You are under orders from the King today." She smiled sweetly. "To take your rest and be a layabout for as long as we desire to. No duty today, we shall merely make up for what we lost this last week. I shall fetch the text for you, and send for something for you to break your fast. Then a certain young lord is eager to see his ada." She kissed him before going to fetch a very thin book.

He leafed through it. "I can see where the error came from." He said. "A few of the pages has fallen out at some time and it has been mended. Whoever mended it put some of the pages back in the wrong order. The translations of two phrases has been exchanged for each other. One is the one you used, and the other is the one you sought to use."

"What was the real one then?" She asked.

"_Bacio mi, corino. Tiamo._" He said softly. "Kiss me, my sweet, I love thee." That was what I wanted to say." Eowyn said remorsefully.

"Then do it now." Faramir offered. "I shall pretend that the time between then has never been."

Eowyn repeated the phrase and Faramir felt it as if he was in heaven.

"Such a shame that the pages had gotten mixed up." Eowyn said as she snuggled in his arms later. Elboron had been fetched from the nursery and had squirmed down between them. He seemed to be comfortable in the tight space between his parents. "Everything else seemed to be in order. Just the thing that I wanted to use."

"I shall see to it that it is corrected." Faramir said softly. He hated to admit it, but he was growing weary and sleepy again. He also had no wish to struggle against it. Was there a better way to sleep than with his wife and child in his arms.

The King had been there, the King of the land had gone with food to his Steward. Something unheard of, yet an appreciated gesture from a friend. No matter how formal he had been trained to be it was beginning to get hard to think of him as anything else than a friend. He supposed that the King had finally gotten what he wanted in that regard. Mayhap it was true, there was no denying a King who knew what he wanted.

"I shall see to it that it is corrected." He yawned and the his eyelids drifted close and he fell asleep.

As Faramir is finally sleeping I am faced with two choices. Either I write what is happening in that room, (ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ). Or I ignore them temporarily.

If I do the former this shall stretch on for some pages.

If I do the latter I shall be able to type out another chapter.

As my computer complains about the loud snoring I suppose that I shall do the latter. Fear not, I have a temporary plan to as what I shall do next. It is only temporary this far since I have not yet gotten to type it out into something permanently.

Hence I shall end this here, and I shall return in one week with something more permanent then the promise of a temporary idea.

Until then, fare ye all well.

/Elenhin

(A temporary note from the author:

If you thought that this was all that would come from this. I would say that you are momentarily wrong. Right at this moment it is, but as time passes by there shall be more. The fact that more is to come is the singularly reason as to why I say that this is only a temporarily end.

Momentarily note from the author terminated.)

_Pronounciation guide by Celebrion:_

_Jeezes! That woman can drag things out!_

_Anyway, back to business..._

"_Porci._ _Anate all'infermo.", Italian, insult, not very nice..._

"Porrchi. Anáte alinférmoh." Go with the classical Italian heat and staccato notes if you want to sound it like the insult it is, Èowyn used a softer tone as she thought it to be a compliment.

"_Bacio mi, corino. Tiamo." Italian, compliment, quite nice..._

"_Bachjo mí, coríno. Tjamo." Use passion! You want this guy to kiss you, right? (Use 'corina' to women, otherwise the woman in question might get certain suspicions if you know what I mean... At least if she has some knowledge of the Latin languages French, Spanish, Italian and/or their predecessor Latin.)_

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ForeverFaramir: _Celebrion again!_

_Thanks for the compliment, but this time I got my teacher involved in the making... I first made a translation that looked fine by me and sent it off to her for beta. Let's just say it looked VERY red when I got it back... I think your Gaelic still is better than mine, can barely speak a word without looking in agrammatica and two parlours..._

_And as for the Irish-Gaelic vs. Scots-Gaelic I'm starting to change view on which is the easiest... During the first Scots lesson we sat for about fifteen minutes praticing the weird 'uh'-sound... Felt like some kind of secretsect meeting... _

_And you know we update every Tuesday and will continue to do so until the Rivers of Imagination has run dry for a millenia and all nine muses committed suicide out of pure despair._

As for me, Elenhin, I am glad that you liked it, as always. Thought I am curious, it is always good to know we got your attention, but just what part of the author's note got you intrigued. I hope that you have enjoyed this chapter as well now.

Silver Sniper: I hope that you were able to find something tasty to snack on. I do not want any of my loyal readers to suffer hunger when they read. :) Ah, your kind words are a comfort to me, that is me Elenhin, anyways thanks to your support it shall not be more than a twelve hour 'did they like it angst.' I think that it is going in the right direction then. You said you could go on for long about how much you liked it, (except for that hunger thing,) well, I could go on for just as long about how much I appreciate your kind words, (except I need to post this.) So here I have handed thee a new chapter, and I hope it was to thee liking.

frodo16424: I am glad that you like Carl, we like him to, and we shall have more fun with all the similarities he shares with Faramir. As for your request of Swahili, it was fun that you asked. We have that chapter already written, but it might be a slight while before we post it. It is one we save for when we are behind schedule wit writing new ones.

Horsiegurl: Always great to know you liked it, and that you found my information mail helpful. I hope that you liked this.

Lindahoyland: Eomer is fun because you can do so much for him. We can make him appear bluff and shallow, muscle and no brain, and still have him be really deep and complicated if we wish. I imagine him much that way, unpredictable. I am also very grateful for all your kind comments, and love your tale vary much. I am very interested in what the Elven scar treatment turns out to be.

Legolas's Girl 9: Welcome to the world of madness that we have here. I am very happy that you liked it, and we have no intention of ending this anytime soon. We enjoy it to much, and we hope that you shall continue to enjoy it as well.

Raksha The Demon: We actually have an idea about doing something like that, we just have not made up our minds of what we would use as a plot for it, or what we need for it. We shall however see what we are able to put together. I am very glad that you like it thought.

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Here I would like to thank everyone who reads my works, thank you.

Here it must also be said that in the tale "A Two Colour Chain Mail," we started the vote based on the fact that Sean Bean and David Wenham made the perfect image of two brothers. We also got plenty of agreement on that.

So here it is, if you agree with us and think that they should be real brothers. Say so in your review. It shall be your vote. On my authors page, in the bio I shall keep score. When the score reaches 100, they shall be declared official brothers. Then on my authors page shall be an official declaration written by Elenhin and Celebrion.

Then the truth can not be denied, they shall be brothers.


	15. Of Ents and Swahili

Author's Note: This is a bit of a joke that I wrote with the help of a friend. We thought that Faramir was skilled at different languages, and wondered just what languages he could speak.

Trying to think of as many as possible, and writing a story on each. Some languages will be from Lord of the Ring, some will not, but we will name them and where they come from. So Have no fear

This time we areplaying with Ents and Swahili. In one of the first reviews we got Dumbledalf suggested that we should do Entish and Swahili. So we just stuck them in the same chapter. We thank you for the idea and we hope that you like the chapter.

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Ring, I only borrow parts of it and shall return them as soon as I am done. Completely undamaged, as I am certain it will be impossible to see where we glued the pieces back together.

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Of Ents and Swahili 

"Come on now Faramir." Pippin urged. "Ye really should be faster than that, what with having so long legs." Pippin was running across the field while Faramir was walking a short distance behind him. That was Pippin had just stopped in order to shout to him that he should hurry up. Merry was a mere few meters behind Pippin, having run with him.

"Pippin, he's the one carrying the sack." He pointed out. "It's got to be heavy."

"If he would ever catch up to us we could stop and eat. And then it wouldn't be any heavy at all." Pippin stated.

The two hobbits began walking at a brisk pace. They felt very proud for the moment, having stolen the King's Steward away for the afternoon. Not that it had been difficult. In fact it had been very easy. So easy that they had almost not exactly stolen him.

It was more like if the King had asked them to take the Steward from his work and get him to relax instead. Claiming that he could arrange it for them to get some food to take along on a nice walk outside the City.

The reason that it almost appeared as easy as that was because Aragorn had suggested that very thing, and since Aragorn was now King. That did rather mean that the King had asked them to take him along.

Merry and Pippin however insisted that they had stolen him, since they thought that sounded like much more fun.

Faramir was not aware of the fact that these discussions had occurred, and hence did not know whether he had been stolen or simply given away. As long as the two Hobbits returned him in the evening it was unlikely that he would ever learn that he had been stolen in the first place, and therefore he would not really care about whatever the term was stolen or given away.

He was simply enjoying being outside of the City for some time. A pleasant walk with two friends that he had yet to learn also were thieves. Since he was the biggest he had been assigned the duty of carrying the sack.

Even if Merry claimed it was because Pippin would eat all the food if he were to carry it. Pippin likewise believed that Merry would eat all of it if he were the one to carry it. This made Faramir the only one they both trusted to carry it without eating the contents. In fact both Hobbits had decided that Faramir did not eat near enough, and was trying to figure out some way to fatten him up to Hobbit standard.

Faramir was as blissfully unaware of this plan as well as the plan regarding the grand theft of the Steward.

"He really should be faster." Pippin frowned. "Was his brother ever that slow?"

"That was different Pippin. It's not like we're in a hurry anyway." Merry objected.

"But I'm hungry. Haven't eaten in ages." Pippin complained. "An'e said we would eat when we got to that spot he knew of. But why's it taking us so long to git there."

"It's not like you're gonna starve." Merry decided. Now that they had slowed slightly Faramir was getting closer to them. "Besides it's not all that long ago he was hurt remember. We are supposed to make him relax for some time, not make him race all over Gondor."

Pippin was not really able to argue about that, mostly because Faramir was now so close he would hear everything they said about him. Pippin was not known to be tactful, but he liked the big man. Just as he had liked his brother, Boromir very much. Pippin could be very considerate when he wanted to, and with Faramir he had decided that it was worth the trouble."

"When are we getting there?" He was however not beyond making a complaint.

"Would you find it in your powers to abide ten more minutes good master Hobbit." Faramir smiled softly.

"Dunn't even know what that means." Pippin frowned. "Ye'd have to speak plainer to us. We are simple Hobbits and we don't understand such fancy talk."

"I beg pardon then." Faramir sketched a bow. "In less fancy words I said that we shall reach a nice spot within ten minutes."

"If that was what you said, then why did you not simply say so?" Pippin demanded.

"Mayhap because I was trained firstly to speak in court." Faramir said with a sad smile. "I was raised to duty Pippin, and duty demands you to act in strange ways at times."

"How come Boromir never were like that then." Pippin was aware of the warning Aragorn had given him regarding speaking about Boromir to his brother. It was hard to miss something that took the King all of half an hour to get through. Still Pippin wanted to know, and this far Faramir had not seemed to mind speaking about his brother. He always became sad when they did that, but just the same he seemed to enjoy speaking to someone about his older brother. "He was never all that formal, didn't bow all the time, and even a simple Hobbit could understand what he said."

"If I say that what is adorable in one is repulsive in another, does that make any sense at all to you then?" Faramir said slowly.

"It does a little, but not all that much." Merry said softly. Like Pippin he was aware of the fact that this was a painful subject for the man, but also that he needed to speak of it at times.

"Boromir was the heir and the perfect soldier. Since he was soldier he could all but put his feet on the table in the dinning hall and no one minded. He spoke his mind, and could knock out the teeth on anyone that objected. He was adored because of how bluff and honest he always was." Faramir said slowly, not looking at either Hobbit, but looking at some point in the distance. "He was loved by the people, and the nobles dared not make an enemy of him. You see, since he was the heir he would come to rule over them, and if they made trouble for them, Boromir would just take them to task. I was the spare, the one only needed should the heir be lost, and then a poor choice. While Boromir was to always be seen, I was to be kept out of sight as much as possible. No one wanted a reminder that the heir could be lost. Therefore I had to be ever bowing and begging pardon. Had I stepped forward it would have been said that I was trying to step into his place."

"That's horrible." Pippin cried. "How can they call you a spare. That is just awful."

"It is not so bad Pippin." Faramir said to sooth him. "I was never as bluff as Boromir, I could never have stepped forward as he could. I never wanted to, I was better suited to the part of the second."

"It is still wrong to make it into something like that." Merry stated firmly. "You're not second to anyone Faramir. Not to anyone no matter who they think that they are."

Faramir would have to admit that his words were warming. It was a rare treat to hear them praise him in such kind and honest words. They were however coming up the spot he had picked, and he was not comfortable getting praise.

He motioned to the large oak tree standing on a ridge. "See there Pippin, is that not perfect for a meal."

"If it means we can eat no other place could be better." The Hobbit stated. He grabbed the sleeve of Faramir's tunic and began running the last distance, forcing Faramir to increase his pace.

As soon as the man had dropped the sack Pippin had gotten it open and was digging around in it after food to eat. He was piling all of it in a heap on the grass. Merry sank down beside him and began spreading it out. Making sure that everyone could reach the items. Faramir had taken his seat leaning with his back against the tree trunk. He was very grateful to the King for giving him a free afternoon.

Having gone through all the food Pippin was now handing some of it out while Merry filled three goblets with clear red wine. Faramir set the goblet he was handed on the ground and accepted a pie. Having eaten lunch and knowing that supper was still ahead he would have been perfectly happy with just that pie, but Pippin was heaping even more food his way. Stacking pastries and slices of cold roast beef together with strawberry rolls. They were shoving just little less than a third of the food his way.

"Try this, ye really must." Pippin handed him some sweet cake.

"Pippin, I'm not a Hobbit, I can not eat that much." Faramir was already feeling as if he had had his fill, and that was only the pie and some of the roast meat. Having lived on barely enough to sustain himself in Ithilien for so long, he now found that he could not eat much anymore. It was only natural and to be expected. Before he was a Ranger he could usually eat three full plates in one sitting, now he would never eat more than one. His stomach just could not handle that amount of food.

"You are bigger than us." Merry wolfed down another strawberry roll. "Twice as big actually, you should be able to eat twice as much."

"The King is even bigger than me, and he does not eat much more." Faramir defended himself. "You should enjoy the fact that I give you no competition for the food." He smiled at them. "Besides I am more than content to simply enjoy sitting here. With all the haste a certain young hobbit was in to get here, it is nice to be allowed to relax."

"Well, you were taking all day and I was hungry." Pippin muttered. "What if ye had taken so long we would not have had time to eat?"

"I do not think you needed worry about that, really good sir Hobbit." Both Merry and Pippin looked fascinated on as he stretched out his long legs in front of him. He was tall for a man, and even more to for them.

"When there is food at stake one has to worry." Merry explained to the ignorant man.

"We have all of the afternoon, no need for haste." Faramir smiled gently at them.

"Now you go sounding like an Ent again." Pippin made a face around a sweet cake. "Always going on about hasty and go slowly. What was it Treebeard always said Merry?"

"If one is hasty, one misses a lot." Merry drew himself up to look taller and more important in an imitation of the Ent.

"_Harraka harraka haina barraka_." Faramir said slowly. "It is true you know."

"What did you say?" Pippin demanded. "I did not understand a single word of it."

"I said what you said." Faramir frowned slightly. "_If one is hasty, one misses a lot_. It is a Swahili expression."

"What made you think that we would understand Swahili." Merry had all but temporarily forgotten about the pie in his hand. "We've never even heard of it."

"I'm sorry, I, I guess I forgot what kind of language it was." Faramir looked at them remorsefully. "I did not mean to confuse you, I'm just used to think about it on that language. I forgot that it must sound like utter gibberish to you, I beg pardon for that."

Pippin scooted closer. "Ye don't have to be sorry for everything ye know. We just got confused because we didn't know what it meant. When I think about it it's really rather fun when ye tell us all this wee things we know nothing about."

"Is it a fun language?" Merry added, aware that his earlier statement had been a bit impolite.

"I find it interesting, and many wise things have been said by those who speak it." Faramir explained.

"What else did they say then." Pippin reached for a honey cake for himself, and handed one to Faramir as well.

"They also said another wise thing." Faramir nodded. "_Hakuna matata_." He gave them a small and slightly shy smile. "It means, _no worries, no trouble_. That you should not worry about everything but be happy instead."

"Sounds pretty smart." Pippin agreed, feeling very pleased with himself. He had just gotten Faramir to eat two honey cakes, and that only a few minutes after the man had declared he could not eat another bite.

"Very smart." Faramir grinned teasingly at him. "Instead of worrying when you will get to eat you should enjoy the fine pleasant weather."

As soon as the words was out of his mouth a small Hobbit pounced on him. Pippin began wrestling with him in much the same way he and Merry had taken on Boromir. Faramir however was not as lively as Boromir had been. He merely tried to roll out of the way.

"Oh, no. Defend yourself." Merry cried. "A Ranger should be able to defeat a Hobbit. Just give him all you got." He laughed as Faramir pinned Pippin to the ground, although he did it very gently.

Merry heaped praise over Faramir as he had finally overcome one small part of his shyness. He was laughing now, along with the two Hobbits, and his smiles had reached to his eyes, lightening them up in a pleasant way.

Still grinning like crazy over his victory over court behaviour Pippin moved over to claim his share of the food that was still left.

When they have eaten all what is left there is naught else but the trek back to the City, and I think that we all know Pippin's complaints without me pointing them out. So I shall leave you here, enduring another temporary ending, until the time comes when the next chapter is placed out onto the haven for all Lord of the Ring lovers.

Until then may you all have a temporary ending.

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_Celebrion's Pronounciation Guide:_

_This is as with the French mostly guesses, so if you speak Swahili feel free to correct me..._

"_Harraka harraka haina barraka"_

_For the 'a';s use the same vowel sound as in a soft sigh of enjoyment: 'Aaahh...'_

_The 'r';s should be pronounced almost Russian, with the very tip of the tongue._

_The same thing for the 'n', put the tip of your tongue pressed to the back of your front teeth and say it._

_The 't';s in 'Hakuna Matata' follow the same rule aswell._

_

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_

Horsiegurl: I am as glad as ever that you liked our tale, and that you like how Aragorn and Faramir turned out. I have to warn you thought that since we are not writing in a time line order, but write what fits with the chapter. There might be more of a shyer Faramir. I hope you do not mind that as we think that the shy Faramir is rather cute in a way.

Silver Sniper: You make me blush whenever you review. If our chapters are one of the highlights of your week, I do not think I need to tell you what your review means to us. We always strive to please as we have said before, and to know we have succeeded is great. I hope that you liked this chapter as well, and if there is something in particular you would like to see, just tell us and we will do our best.

ForeverFaramir:

Celebrion again!

This time I have to confess I took the help of my Irish teacher. I first wrote a translation I thought worked well and sent it off to her, when it came back it was quite red...

I'm working on it though, Scots-Gaelic began last Monday and I think I might have to change my opinion a wee bit. The spelling is easier but we sat for about a quarter practising a certain 'u' sound, still haven't got it quite right...

Elenhin has stolen back the keyboard. I am still pondering the Eowyn sees Faramir and Carl together idea trying to see how make it work. It should come thought I dare not say when. We have other plans for Carl and Faramir as well, that we intend to put in motion. As for the Gaelic and not being able to understand why anyone would study it. Celebrion studies Gaelic, I am jealous because I want to study it as well. I suppose that means that we are both crazy, but then again we like being crazy. :)

silvren ithildin: It is always a great joy to get your review. I am so happy that you like it, and I hope that you enjoyed this piece as well.

Irene: Thank you for correcting us. We do our best to make our language inputs correct, but we sometimes fail at it and thus we are grateful for the help. Most of the mistakes with the languages are due to the fact that we do not speak this many languages, we have just picked up an odd phrase here and there and try to put them together. The Italian we used I learnt in school for a play we made, witch meant I had a note with some lines on it, and tried to dissect them and put them into something else. I am very glad that you liked the tale thought, and I hope that you liked this as well.

Lindahoyland: Celebrion and I have a rather clear image of what we imagine Faramir to be like, and we base our tales on it. We are absolutely certain that he would be taking his work and duty a step to far every now and then. So we will continue to base some of our works on it.

We are always happy over your kind reviews to them, and I simply love your tale. In fact as soon as I have successfully gotten this posted I am about to go hunt for a new update on yours. I usually do that at least twice a day.

* * *

Here I would like to thank everyone who reads my works, thank you.

Here it must also be said that in the tale "A Two Colour Chain Mail," we started the vote based on the fact that Sean Bean and David Wenham made the perfect image of two brothers. We also got plenty of agreement on that.

So here it is, if you agree with us and think that they should be real brothers. Say so in your review. It shall be your vote. On my authors page, in the bio I shall keep score. When the score reaches 100, they shall be declared official brothers. Then on my authors page shall be an official declaration written by Elenhin and Celebrion.

Then the truth can not be denied, they shall be brothers.


	16. Checking Out the Czech

Author's Note: This is a bit of a joke that I wrote with the help of a friend. We thought that Faramir was skilled at different languages, and wondered just what languages he could speak.

Trying to think of as many as possible, and writing a story on each. Some languages will be from Lord of the Ring, some will not, but we will name them and where they come from. So Have no fear

Carl, from Van Helsing is back, and this time we are playing with the Czech. We hope that you will like it.

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Ring, I only borrow parts of it and shall return them as soon as I am done. Completely undamaged, as I am certain it will be impossible to see where we glued the pieces back together.

* * *

Checking out the Czech

Faramir pulled out a book from the shelf, opening it and leafing through the pages. He was hoping to find something interesting that he could spend a few hours reading. Eowyn was put reading so for once he did not have to worry about her disproval. Something fell from the book and he bent to pick up a scrap of paper.

There was some writing on it in faded ink, the handwriting flowing and delicate. He could just make out what it said. _Krásny zlato moje_. So he could make it out but not understand it. It was annoying to run across a language he had not yet mastered. His curiosity demanded that he tried to find what it said.

Never mind that curiosity killed the cat. That had nothing to do with it at all. The cat simply did not know the protocol of curiosity. One should not go around sticking ones nose everywhere where it did not belong. Instead one went to a source where one was sure to be able to find what one wanted in a safe manner.

He knew just where he should go.

Carl had the strange feeling that he was no longer alone. He knew that the library had been empty when he came here. Thus logically he should be alone. If he was not, then either it was some annoying monk who wanted him to pray again, or it was one of the gigantic dust mote who had escaped the dusty backroom. That room was dusty compared to the rest of the dusty library.

Turning his head he noticed that it was the third option. The only one he had not thought about. Hence he was taken a bit by surprise.

There was however no mistaking it. Only one person walked around in the library of the Vatican wearing a cloak and a worn leather tunic with a white tree etched on his chest. Only one other person entered this part of the library freely for that matter. Van Helsing only entered if Carl agreed to supply him with weapons first.

"Uh, hello." He said carefully. It was not that Carl minded the mans company, he was really rather nice and Carl actually liked him. It was just the fact that anyone that went into the dustiest part of the library freely had to be just a slight bit out of their right mind. Then again that might be why Carl liked him. They were both just a little slightly crazy.

"Hello Carl." Faramir smiled. "I thought it was time I came here for a visit again."

"So you have found something interesting then?" Carl rubbed his hands together eagerly. "Well, show it to me."

Faramir chuckled at the realization that the Friar knew him so well already. "Actually yes, you are right." He nodded and dug a scrap of paper out of his pocket. "I have found something. Just a few words mind, and I have not the slightest idea what language it is in. I was hoping that you would recognize it." He handed the paper to the Friar. "That is not the original though. The scrap of paper I found was so old it was falling apart, and the ink so faded I could just barely make it out. So I made a copy of it to bring here."

Carl studied it carefully. Reading it a few times and sounding out the words. "I can not say that I know it." He frowned. "But there is definitely something familiar about it. I think I should be able to figure out what it is."

"I was hoping for something like that." Faramir admitted. "So what do you say we see what we can find out."

The two men started searching through the library in their hunt for books that could reveal the message on the note. Basically Carl went in search for books while Faramir searched through the books. Carl concentrated on the books that told about odd languages. Soon the table was covered with book stacks. A few of them was so high that Faramir disappeared from view when he was behind them, and that was when he was standing up.

"I think that I've finally found something here." Carl exclaimed much later, looking up at the huge stacks of books that they had gathered. "Oh my, we've looked through all of those."

"I rather think that we have." Faramir stood and stretched, he was just able to reach the one on top. "I think that we should get a few of these back where they belong before they topple." He decided. There were a few of them that wavered with each breath the two men made. "When did the stacks get this high though?" He wondered out loud. "I don't recall stacking them that high."

"They always somehow manage to wind up stacked higher than one did stack them." Carl frowned and threw the mountain ridge of books a quizzical look. Did that text wink at him in a superior manner, or was it Faramir who was cutting down the height of it that made it look that way.

They set to the task of putting them back to their places on the shelves. Something much harder than getting them out of their shelves had been. Faramir stretched as high as he was able. He needed another inch to reach the shelf where one particular book belonged. Standing on his toes and steadying himself with a hand against the shelf he was able to gain two inches, and still came one shy of reaching that shelf he was striving towards.

"However were you able to get this one down?" Faramir wondered. "I think the shelf is getting higher for me."

Carl looked over, the book Faramir held in his hand was the one he could almost have sworn had winked at him with that annoyingly superior attitude that most of the monks seemed to have.

"I am beginning to have my doubts about that particular book." He frowned. "I think that it is doing that to spite us."

"I am beginning to believe you." His back ached, but Faramir was finally able to tuck the book back in its place on the shelf. They cleared away the rest of the books.

"So." Faramir gave the now empty table a pleased look. "What was that you had found."

"Oh, right. I found something here that I think would at least tell us what language it was." Carl smiled.

"That is great, where is it." Faramir looked at him eagerly, then realised that Carl was eyeing the clean table with a strange look in his eyes. "Oh, no. Don't tell me we cleared that one away with the rest." He pleaded. Carl gave him a look of misery and desperation.

"We did." Faramir said with a sigh. "And I am fairly certain that I know which one it was." He sighed again and gave the shelf that had been, just an inch too high, a look of pure disgust. "It's that one, it has to be that one."

Carl nodded defeated.

"I am beginning to agree with your opinion." Faramir muttered. "That book is doing it on purpose. He eyed the shelf calculatively, like he would an enemy. Well, that book was as close to an enemy that one would get in this library. He pondered the problem carefully. Whenever he reached for it he came up an inch too short, so clearly stretching was not an option. He circled to the other side of it. It did not seem to be any higher yet. Mentally counting down he suddenly raised his hand as high up as he could and grabbed the book before it had time to react. Victory was won and he took it back to Carl.

Only to have Carl point out that the book they wanted was on the shelf below where the one Faramir had grabbed stood. Faramir turned and glared at the book that looked very innocent.

Two minutes later Faramir brought the correct book back to the table. Holding it tightly and giving it no chance to escape.

Carl took it and leafed through it, murmuring to himself. "Ah, good. Here we are." He shone up. "Czech, now we only have to be able to find a translation for it."

Faramir nodded. "At least we have it narrowed down then. So, where do we start our search for a translation?"

"That should not be so hard." Carl rubbed his hands together eagerly. "Actually not hard at all since there is a part here with translations. The difficult part was finding what we had to translate it from. Come here now, the book we want is over here, somewhere."

Soon they had discovered a large heavy tome, it was so big that Faramir could not hold it while he read it, but was forced to take it back to the table. He swiped the dust from the leather cover with a gentle hand and admired the beautiful pattern there. This tome was old, very old and he held it with reverence. Tracing a faded golden line as it curved its way along the old leather with a finger.

He carefully opened it and read the first page. Letters near hidden in the intricate decorative pattern there. Many hours of hard labour had been spent on just this first page.

"At least I know Latin well enough to make out the rest." He smiled as he gently turned the pages.

"Latin is a most agreeable language." Carl pointed out. "It relates to many others and is thus quite useful."

"Aye." Faramir said absently as he leafed through the pages. "Though all those things can be confusing at times."

"What is there that is confusing about languages?" Carl frowned, he had certainly never found anything confusing about them. Challenging before he had learnt them, certainly, but never confusing.

"Just that my wife insulted me not so long ago." Faramir absently answered, most of his attention was on the book on the table in front of him. Yet he had enough to spare to notice the Friar's confused expression. "She even went far enough as to do it in Italian."

"Why ever would she do that." Carl frowned even deeper and his brow was wrinkled with concentration. "Surely if one would want it so badly there is better tongues for insulting others."

"Please do not tell her any of them." Faramir shrugged. "Italian was bad enough, and she did not even mean to do it as it turned out. She had been trying to learn a little of it to surprise me." He turned a few more of the brittle pages. "Only at some point a few of the pages had fallen out of the book she used, and whoever mended it had put them back in the wrong order." He eyed Carl for his reaction. Carl nodded thoughtfully. He was aware of the trick loose pages could play on an unsuspecting victim.

"So when she meant to say '_Bacio mi, carino. Tiamo._' She actually wound up saying, '_Porco._ _Anate all'infermo._' That was rather confusing, for I truly thought she meant what she had said."

"So instead of saying, '_Kiss me, my sweet, I love thee._' She said, '_Swine, get thee to perdition._'" There was a smile playing at Carl's lips. "I can see how that would be a rather unpleasant misunderstanding." He nodded. "A very unfortunate thing to have happen."

"I saw to it that it was corrected." Faramir was unable to keep from smiling as he watched the other man very closely. "It should not happen again.

Carl's curiosity got the better of him and he had to ask one question. "What book was that?" He asked curiously.

"Oh, it was a very simple guide to the Italian language." Faramir smiled faintly, he was enjoying this very much, and he was getting closer to finding his translation, he could feel it.

"Who had written it." Carl had his hands clasped together, and oh, was he not so wonderfully predictable.

"Actually it was you. I assume you know which one I am speaking about then." Faramir chuckled. "Ah, perfect. I have found it." He looked up and his eyes fell upon a very baffled Friar.

"Oh, oh dear." Carl murmured. "I certainly never meant for that to happen. I merely thought it portrayed the difference between endearments and insults rather well."

"Carl," Faramir said gently. "It is well, and, I have found the translation."

Carl's head snapped up and he stepped over to stand beside Faramir and read the page himself. "That's wonderful." He said as cheerful as ever. "Here it is. '_Krásny zlato moje_, it means. '_My beautiful gold._' That should come in handy." He grinned looking up at Faramir.

"Very." Faramir was smiling again. "I shall have to try and use it on my wife." He looked around. "Is there perchance any ink here so that I can write it down. I would not like to get back only to find that it has slipped my mind."

Carl chuckled. "Put those books back and I shall find some for you."

A battle with book and shelf later Faramir left to return home, with the note securely tucked away in his pocket. Trying to imagine Eowyn's face when he tried his new phrase on her. She would be a slight bit displeased that he had spent a fine day in a musty library, but she would like the compliment, he was sure about that.

Carl had once again proved to be a useful source for language knowledge. It would be interesting to see what would be the next reason for their search amongst ancient tomes. Whatever it was he hoped that a certain book had nothing to do with it. If battling it was involved he was not certain that any new knowledge was worth it. He had never before encounter such a difficult book.

Far deep in the darkest corner of library oft refered to as the _Kingdom of Dust_, a certain book felt very pleased with itself as it watched the two men retreat along their different paths.

However we can not allow the two men to find out this and that means we must put a temporarily end here. For this particularly tale that is. A new chapter shall follow with all temporarily speed, and be posted as temporarily, uh, I mean as usually next week. I got temporarily lost in my temporality there, and I temporarily apologize for it.

_Pronounciation Guide by Celebrion:_

_And I feel like temporarily giving up reading that part of the fic in the future..._

_Well, back to business. This is as usual guesses made by a disturbed mind late at night when sensible are sleeping. Anyhow..._

"_Krásny zlato moje", Czech (obviously), compliment, very nice. Would have needed that yesterday..._

'_Krrashny zjlá1to' modje.'_

_1. A very British long 'a'. Can't think of any better right now..._

_Hope it's not too far off the mark... Enjoy, we'll be back next tuesday!_

* * *

ForeverFaramir: We like all reviews, especially from our faithful reviewers. We are very glad that you liked it, and we do our best. Mayhap it shall be that we can do something more with Gaelic.

Legolas's Girl 9: I have seen George of the Jungle, several times. It is a very good movie. Even if I think that The Lion King is more remembered for the line Hakuna Matata, seeming as Timone and Pumba always says that.

LOTRFaith:I am very glad that you like it. Actually I am more than very glad, since you both likes our tale, and was kind enough to vote. If you look at my authors bio page you shall see that I have added one vote for John Noble as the father, though I do not intend to add any more things to the original vote. The main purpose is to get them to become brothers. I also hope that you enjoyed this chapter as well.

Silver Sniper: I still say that it is one of the high points of my week to read your review. That is how I know that I have done something good, and I might add that I have only just stopped blushing over your praise. We would be very interested in using Chinese, I do not have any specific idea of what to do with it yet, but I shall keep it in mind and tell you when I have something. Thank You so much for the offer.

Katieelessar: Thank you for praising us. We are thinking about doing something on these languages, actually there are very few languages that we have not considering doing something on. Mostly we just wait until we have an idea that can work, or until we can get our hands on a phrase from the language in particularly. We shall see what happens with those you mentioned, it might work out rather well.

ScribbleDream: Thank you for the kind words. The first few chapters are the ones with the most mistakes in them. I am afraid that I am a perpetual spelling disaster. I have difficulty with spelling. Now my co writer is working as a beta, and when he has time he have promised to go over the first few chapters to correct them. I hope that you can still read and enjoy this until that is done.

Horsiegurl: I think that the main opinion is that Faramir is cute no matter what. At least that is what I have gathered from browsing this page. I update once a week, every week, and then I sometimes throw in some other stuff whenever I have something. Lastly was the poem, the Heir and the Spare. If you have not read it yet, you might want to, I think that you would like it.

Lindahoyland: The Hobbits like to conspire, they happily conspire whenever they get the chance, and since you like to tease with the knowledge you have about your own tale, I might return the favour. :) In a very near future in this tale, the Hobbits shall be conspiring again. I hope that I have you curious now, because I am still curious about what you are doing, and I greatly enjoy commenting on your tale.

* * *

Here I would like to thank everyone who reads my works, thank you.

Here it must also be said that in the tale "A Two Colour Chain Mail," we started the vote based on the fact that Sean Bean and David Wenham made the perfect image of two brothers. We also got plenty of agreement on that.

So here it is, if you agree with us and think that they should be real brothers. Say so in your review. It shall be your vote. On my authors page, in the bio I shall keep score. When the score reaches 100, they shall be declared official brothers. Then on my authors page shall be an official declaration written by Elenhin and Celebrion.

Then the truth can not be denied, they shall be brothers.


	17. Norwegian Nonsense for Nobody

Author's Note: This is a bit of a joke that I wrote with the help of a friend. We thought that Faramir was skilled at different languages, and wondered just what languages he could speak.

Trying to think of as many as possible, and writing a story on each. Some languages will be from Lord of the Ring, some will not, but we will name them and where they come from. So Have no fear

This time we are using Norwegian, and the word in question comes from a song lyric.

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Ring, I only borrow parts of it and shall return them as soon as I am done. Completely undamaged, as I am certain it will be impossible to see where we glued the pieces back together.

* * *

Norwegian Nonsense for Nobody 

Aragorn looked up from his documents as two small Hobbits sneaked into his study. The older of the pair glanced over his shoulder before slipping in. That kind of sneaking usually meant they were up to some mischief. He was afraid it was some mischief he would have to deal with for he was loath to lay down the document he was working on.

There was already one document laying on the polished wood of the desk, and he was beginning to develop a theory about documents and his desk. It seemed that whenever he laid down two documents there at the same time, there were always three when he moved to pick them up again. He was beginning to suspect that the desk was a breeding ground for official documents, and he had no desire to get more of them. There was already more than enough, more than he could deal with.

He opened an empty desk drawer and dropped the document from his desk in it. Then he laid down the one in his hand on the desk. That would certainly keep them from multiplying.

"What are you two up to?" He demanded from the two Hobbits that were now standing in front of his desk.

"We want you to help us with something." Pippin said while trying to sound as innocent and cute as possible.

"I will not help you pilfer food from the kitchen." Aragorn stated and moved to pick up the document again as he now knew what they were up to, and wanted to get on with the work. There was two documents before him. Two, he was certain he had meant to drop one into that empty desk drawer on his left side. He assumed he had forgotten and rejoiced in the fact that there was still only two. The amount had not increased yet.

Taking one of them he dropped it into the drawer. A safety precaution against the fertile documents.

"We're not after food this time." Merry said hurriedly.

"We just need a wee favour." Pippin added.

"What kind of favour." Aragorn sighed and laid down the document again. " And when where the two of you not after food."

"Well, that's not to say we'd mind food." Pippin added. "T'would really be nice."

"But we want you to help us learn Norwegian." Merry added before Pippin could ruin it by talking of food.

"What is Norwegian?" Aragorn asked. He had never heard of it before.

"It is a language." Merry handed him a an old brittle book. "We found this in the library, we want to learn it but we need help."

"If you want to learn a language you should ask Faramir." Aragorn decided.

"We don't want him to know that we are learning it." Pippin gave him a pleading look.

"He always knows so much, we though we'd play just a wee trick on him." Merry explained. "Just a little about something he does not know. And that would be Norwegian. Will you please help us." He looked just as pleadingly as Pippin.

Aragorn pondered it for a moment. It seemed fairly harmless. It was not likely that Faramir would take offence. The best thing was that it would keep the two Hobbits occupied and out of trouble for some amount of time. If it started to get out of hand he could always put a stop to it.

"You swear it is only meant to be a harmless joke?" He demanded. "You will not conduct a kidnapping and leave a ransom note no one can read?"

Pippin shone up as if he had just gotten a great idea. Merry jammed his elbow into Pippin's side. "Just a harmless joke. We promise. We like Faramir, we just want to get back on him a little for all those weird languages."

Remembering a time or two when his Steward's language skills had taken him by surprise Aragorn agreed.

"I shall help you." He promised. "But I shall have to finish my work first. I can help you in the evenings after supper."

"Thank you." The Hobbits showed their affection by hugs that near choked Aragorn. Then they rushed out and left Aragorn to his work again.

However annoying Hobbits could be at times, he preferred them to the documents of state. He opened the desk drawer to take out the one document he had left there, and blinked. There were three documents there. He had been certain that the drawer had been empty. Could he have been mistaken?

It was a frightening thought that the desk really bred documents, so he supposed he had just missed the fact that there were already two documents in it when he opened it. Still the hairs at the back of his neck tingled with unease.

Whatever it was because his desk was really doing something strange, or because of the Hobbit's request he did not know.

* * *

Aragorn soon discovered that his charge was to decipher the learning methods in the book and charge the Hobbits to learn them. The book was actually written for the purpose of learning and so it was not a hard task. He merely told them what words to memorize, how the grammar worked, and then made sure they had gotten it correctly. 

Now Merry and Pippin sat with a quill each and a stack of blank paper in front of them and practiced their spelling.

They were in Aragorn's private chambers to minimize the risk that the Steward would find them and discover what they were doing.

He would come to Aragorn's study a few times every day when he needed his signature and other things. Also some documents was for the King only and no one else was allowed to read them. Aragorn had found that those were very complicated, and by rule he had to seek out his Steward to explain them to him.

"Can you see if this is right?" Pippin handed him a paper where he had scribbled something.

Aragorn looked it over. "Mostly right." He said. "But you have spelt _fölelse _wrong. You have forgotten the two dots over the o."

"I've forgotten what that word means." Merry interrupted. "Can you remember it Pip."

"Feeling." Pippin looked at Aragorn while he spoke as if he was unsure whether it was right or not. Aragorn nodded. They were beginning to get a fairly good grip of the language. Their vocabulary was limited, but how much did they need anyway?

"When are you intending to play your trick anyway?" Aragorn asked slightly curious.

"Really soon. We're gonna write a paper and leave on his desk." Merry smiled. "We thought we'd make it look like a girl that liked him had written it."

"Take care to be nice." Since Faramir had Eowyn, Aragorn did not see how he would take offence by it. If it would somehow offend the younger man he would simply put all blame on the two Hobbits anyway.

"We just have to make it look like it was a woman who wrote it." Merry explained. "And we'll be nice. He should be happy if he thinks there's a girl who likes him. Shouldn't he?"

"As long as you do not put anything in it that could make Eowyn angry with him." Aragorn decided. "As for the handwriting. Why do you not ask Arwen to help you? She will not write it for you, but she could probably help you make your handwriting more flowing."

"Oh, that's a really good idea. We'll do that. Come on Pip." The two Hobbits took off to find Arwen and Aragorn shook his head at their undying enthusiasm. He had to admit that he would like to see Faramir's face when he read it.

* * *

Early one morning two Hobbits and a King sneaked into the study belonging to the King's Steward. One Hobbit placed a paper on the otherwise empty desk. They had agreed on a simple way to draw attention to it. On the paper lay a red rose culled from the Queen's garden. It certainly made it look as if it might have been left by a love-struck lady. 

One other thing that supported that theory was all the young women in the City that moaned after the young man. Even if they knew he was courting the White Lady of Rohan.

Aragorn made a far better job at sneaking than the two Hobbits did. Having his experience from the Rangers to draw from. They hid in a chamber in the opposite end of the chamber. Leaving a small crack open, a crack just barely enough to peek out of.

When they heard the door open they all leaned forward to the crack and saw Faramir enter. He looked confused enough as he laid eyes on the paper, and they thought it would be even better when he realised he could not understand a single word.

Faramir took up the note and frowned as he studied it closer. "Your grammar is mostly correct." He said straight into the air as he studied it. "But you error slightly ever here and there, and your use of the words _displaisebo_ is altogether wrong. No woman would use that as regarding to a man as it refers to two individuals sharing something that neither one can get on their own. Say for example a necklace that both wants but neither one can afford it on their own. If they bought it together and shared the use of it, then that would be _displaisebo_."

He picked up the rose and twirled it between his fingers. "I would also say for your sake that I hope you asked permission before picking the Queen's roses."

There came a gulp as one of the three in hiding realized that he had forgotten to do just that. Aragorn decided that since it had not worked it was time to come out of hiding. He pushed the door open.

"My Lord." Now Faramir looked surprised as he had not believed his King to be part of it.

"You are not going to tell Arwen, are you?" Aragorn asked pleadingly.

"I swore an oath to protect my King with my life if need be." Faramir had gathered his wits about him again and smiled as he saw the two Hobbits that followed the King out of their hiding spot. "I had not thought I would ever be protecting him from the Queen, and especially not to the 'give my life for part,' but I did swear to protect you. I shan't say aught." He promised.

He gestured to the paper. "Would you care to explain what this was all about now?" He transferred his gaze to the two Halflings.

"It's not fair." Pippin said sullenly. "We thought we had found a language that you did not know."

"And we went through an awful lot of trouble to learn it." Merry added.

"Then when we are gonna pull a trick on you by using it. And watch how confused you get when you don't understand any of it. And then you know it. That's awfully mean you know." Pippin fixed Faramir with a glare.

"I am sorry I ruined your fun for you." Faramir knelt so that he was level with the two Hobbits. "Shall I see if I can make it up to you?" He gave them a warm smile.

"Ye can't. Ye ruined all the fun." Pippin made a sour face. "An we spent all that time learning it."

"I think I can give you something to make it up to you, at least partly." Faramir soothed.

Aragorn hoped he could do that, for the Hobbits had been in so high spirit, and they really had worked really hard. It was a shame it had not worked out any better.

"I swore that oath to protect the King, and I gave my word I would not say anything. But you two could probably get a free meal for your word not to tell. I am sure that the Lord Aragorn would consider it a cheap price compared to Arwen finding out he has been in her roses."

Two pair of greedy Hobbit eyes darted of to the King. Judging as if wondering how much food they could get. A few seconds ago he had been grateful to Faramir, now he was not sure.

Still it had to be admitted that Faramir had turned the joke around rather nicely.

He help up his hands in defeat. "I give up, if I get a meal for you. Will you give me your word you will not tell Arwen."

"If there is pie." Pippin demanded.

"And ham, and salted pork." Merry added.

"And ale, don't forget the ale." Pippin grinned now. "And some honey cakes."

Aragorn nodded. "I take it I should ask them to send it here then." He headed for the door to send a servant for the requested food. "Why not, it allows me to escape my work for a little longer if naught else."

Faramir was not hard to convince that he should join in the feast. Not after he caught sight of the honey cakes. Aragorn hurriedly secured a few for himself. Merry and Pippin doing the same. Honey cakes was an endangered delicacy whenever Faramir was near them. It was one of the few things that was almost always guaranteed to win over his natural shyness.

Once all the plates was empty Aragorn left for his study.

Merry and Pippin had chosen to stay behind with Faramir, trying to figure out some odd language that he did not know.

Aragorn chuckled as he came to his study. If nothing else it had been very pleasant. The food and the company had been good, and a welcome distraction from his work. Speaking about work. He eyed his desk suspiciously. He was certain the desks surface had been near clean of papers when he left the room. So why where there a big stack of papers on it. No one entered the room when he was not there.

Since it would not be dignified for the King to be seen crawling around on hands and knees around his desk, trying to figure out it's secrets. As he could not understand how the wooden chunk was able to serve as a breeding ground, I have decided to leave off here.

Fear not for this is mere a temporarily necessity until I can post next, and fear not for the desk shall make itself known again.

Until then, may the temporality of all this see you well.

* * *

Lindahoyland: I rather thought that the book would be a touch of comedy when I put it in the tale. Yet for the record, I have worked as a librarian, I know how evil books can be when you try to get them in order. It is also always just as nice to get a hint of what you are doing, it makes me start thinking. 

orli's-no.1-girl: I am glad you find our languages amusing. I have to admit that I do not know every language we are using, but we do not use translators. I have always been interested in languages, and I think the same can be said for Celebrion too, so we have just picked up bits of weird languages here and there, and we use them. Also we have gotten a lot of useful things from our readers. As for the vote, we thank you for it, we are most grateful in fact, and I also added the vote for John Noble.

Silver Sniper: Considering that me and Celebrion tends to get confused about such things as what day it is, or what week it is, not to mention month, and by the way, if you could tell me what year it is I would be grateful as I have no clue. Anyways, I am glad you like the way we twist the words around, why not twist something around if it means you need not write it in a straight line. I also hope that your Valentines day was pleasant. Happy Valentine, (if it is late I shall just claim to be early for the next year,) and your review is a great Valentines treat.

frodo16424: Glad you licked it, and as I said above, I have run into books that act like that, they are evil, but they keep you in shape. Glad that you liked the Swahili, and we always like a good challenge.

Horsiegurl: We are very happy that you liked it, unfortunately the next few chapters are already written, but we shall try to let it re appear again sometime.

Legolas's Girl 9:I agree, the Lion King is a good movie. We have Southtron planned, but are not there yet. It is mostly the Rohiric that is Anglo-Saxon, and there is a very large possibility that we shall attempt something with that. We have already explored it in the beginning of this tale, so we might dig deeper into that.

Lebennin: Thank you very much, we are truly very grateful. Both for the kind words and for the vote, we are now one step closer to achieving our goal, and it is a noble thing we struggle for, my friend. Your contribution is much appreciated, and we shall do our best as we continue with our tale.

* * *

Here I would like to thank everyone who reads my works, thank you.

Here it must also be said that in the tale "A Two Colour Chain Mail," we started the vote based on the fact that Sean Bean and David Wenham made the perfect image of two brothers. We also got plenty of agreement on that.

So here it is, if you agree with us and think that they should be real brothers. Say so in your review. It shall be your vote. On my authors page, in the bio I shall keep score. When the score reaches 100, they shall be declared official brothers. Then on my authors page shall be an official declaration written by Elenhin and Celebrion.

Then the truth can not be denied, they shall be brothers.

/Elenhin


	18. Desicating the Danish

Author's Note: This is a bit of a joke that I wrote with the help of a friend. We thought that Faramir was skilled at different languages, and wondered just what languages he could speak.

Trying to think of as many as possible, and writing a story on each. Some languages will be from Lord of the Ring, some will not, but we will name them and where they come from. So Have no fear

In this chapter we are doing Danish. The joke of it is based upon the fact that Viggo Mortensen is Danish, and we thought that it was good enough basis for a joke.

This is another chapter that will be posted in two parts. The first one is here, and the last part shall be posted next week.

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Ring, I only borrow parts of it and shall return them as soon as I am done. Completely undamaged, as I am certain it will be impossible to see where we glued the pieces back together.

* * *

**Desiccating the Danish, **part one. 

"Faramir." A very sweet voice said quietly.

The Steward of Gondor looked up at the two small Hobbits that were standing in front of his desk

"What can I do for you?" He asked. It was better to find out what they wanted right away, if it was something he would rather not be involved in there were two good options. Either ignore them and send them away, or, send them of to the King to deal with. Since Aragorn had more experience with dealing with the Hobbits he probably stood a better chance to discourage them from their wildest ideas.

"We just thought we'd drop by for a wee chat." Pippin smiled innocently.

Faramir had learnt one thing from the Hobbits, when Pippin looked that innocent, they were always up to something. He still had two options, either send them away to Aragorn to deal with, or find out what they were up to first.

As Faramir always strived to lessen Aragorn's workload it was perhaps not a good idea to send them there.

"Nothing else?" He enquired. They were good at looking innocent, he was good at finding out whatever they were innocent or not. He would know before long.

"We just wanted a wee chat." Pippin said again. "Ye been working so much we haven't really seen ye a lot lately."

"We even thought we'd be nice and bring some snack to eat." Merry chimed in and produced a plate of honey cakes from behind his back.

That terminated all doubts, they were most definately after something. They would not have brought honey cakes unless they wanted something from him. They might have brought food, but not honey cakes. They always complained that he ate them faster than they could catch up with. It was true, even if he knew what they were doing it was hard to resist. Mayhap he could listen, just long enough to get a few of those honey cakes. Then he could always ignore them.

He waved a hand vaguely over his desk, they needed no more encouragement than that. Merry shoot forward and dumped the plate on his desk.

"So, are you two going to give up the charade and tell me what it is that you are after.?" Faramir had quickly devoured two of the honey cakes at a pace that made the Hobbits look concerned over the prospect of not getting very many of them.

"What makes you think we would be after sumpthing?" Pippin gave him his most innocent smile.

"First of all." Faramir finished his fourth honey cake and started on the next one. A look of panic crossed over Pippin's face. "You are looking far to innocent to actually be innocent. Second of all." That was the fifth and now there were only a small number of honey cakes left. "When were you ever innocent? Third is something you should have learned by now. You can not bribe me to do what you wish unless I find it to be acceptable from the start. And if I do find it to be something I can agree with there is no need for bribes."

Now there were only two honey cakes each left, and that was no mean feat to consume any kind food faster than the Hobbits.

"Guess we should've thought about that." Pippin said remorseless as the loss of the honey cakes was weighing heavily upon him.

"You should have thought about that." Faramir eyed the now empty plate. It had been pleasant, he would be forced to admit that.

"So, if we asked really nice like, would ye help us?" Pippin beamed a smile at him.

"That would depend fully on what you want me to do." Faramir stated firmly.

"We want to learn a language." Merry explained.

"Was that not the Norwegian you talked our King into helping you learn?" Faramir eyed them suspiciously. He was not sure what he had expected, but it could not have been this.

"It was, because we wanted to play a wee prank on you." Pippin admitted. "But that did not work, so we thought we'd do something else."

"We want to play just a wee trick on Strider." Merry went on.

"You want me to help you play a prank on my King?" Faramir asked.

Both Hobbits nodded eagerly.

"Are you two suffering any delusions?" Faramir asked sounding concerned. "What has made you think that I would be willing to help you play a prank on my King, the one I serve. The one I have sworn to protect from all nuisance, my guess is that that includes protecting him form annoying Hobbits wishing to play pranks on him." Faramir made sure to sound more stern than he was. In fact he was slightly amused.

"Well, he was more than willing to help us play the one we tried to play on you." Merry pointed out cheerfully.

"Even so." Faramir shook his head. "I doubt that I will help you."

"We just want you to help us learn a language." Pippin pleaded. "Just a wee language."

"We won't even do anything bad." Merry went on. "No more than we did to you."

"You mean what you tried to do to me." Faramir grinned smugly. "This has been a pleasant conversation and I thank you for it, but I regret that I must continue with my work now."

"I guess we'll leave then." Merry said dejected. "Will you still go on that picnic with us later?"

"It will be a pleasure." He assured him. "It is just that it is not proper for me to be a part of a prank against my sovereign."

The two Hobbits nodded.

"I must also say that this have been rather pleasant." Faramir told them. "I much appreciated the break and the honey cakes."

"We can come some other time to." Pippin said. "We'd like it to."

"You are most welcome."

The two Hobbits left and Faramir resumed his work.

* * *

The next interruption in his work came the following day. This time it was not two inquisitive Hobbits that came into his study, this time it was the Queen of Gondor. 

"My Lady." Faramir stood quickly to his feet and bowed deep. "What service may I be of for thee."

"Firstly I had thought I had convinced you to call me by my name Faramir." She said. "Secondly I actually want you to do something."

"What ever is in my power I shall gladly do for you." Faramir responded. It was true, he had yet to think of something that he would not do for his Queen.

"Merry and Pippin told me about the joke they wished to play on my husband, what would it take for me to convince you to help them?"

"My lady?" He managed baffled by her words.

"I understood by them that you were reluctant to aid in a prank towards your King." Arwen smiled as Faramir nodded. "The prank they are planning is no worse than the prank they played at you, Faramir. I think that it would be vastly funny."

"My lady." Faramir took a deep breath and swallowed. "Arwen, you would wish me to play a prank against your husband, and my King."

"Yes, Faramir." She was still smiling. "I think that he is growing just a tad to confident, and for my part I could also say that it would be a nice with a revenge for my roses."

"Your roses my lady?" He slipped back into a more formal mood of address as he was startled. How had she know that Aragorn had cut one of her roses. He had done so as a part of the prank the two Hobbits had tried to play on Faramir. Yet Faramir had given his word not to tell Arwen, and the Hobbits had been bribed into the same promise by large amounts of food.

"I could see where he had been at them as soon as I lay eyes on my rose bush, Faramir." She said. "It was not all that hard to make the Hobbits tell me, not after I had found out how much food he bribed them with and promised to give them more."

Faramir nodded, he had no problem seeing that. "It would not be seemly for me to aid in a prank against my King." He objected again.

"Not only King, mellon nin. Your friend as well. "Arwen smiled. "Trust me Faramir he shall not mind this."

"What would be my part?" Faramir asked.

"Your part would be to aid them with the language." She smiled. "I think that you should do this Faramir. Elessar shall not take offence, I can promise you that, and shall it not be fun."

"If it is my Queens wish, did I not say that I would abide by it." Faramir smiled slightly.

"You did." She smiled back. "Shall I tell our two friends that you will help them then?"

"Aye, it would seem that I am." He actually marvelled at how she had convinced him to help. It seemed that he no longer had any choice in the matter. Arwen and he bid each other a pleasant day each.

* * *

Thus he found himself spending time with the Hobbits each day. They had picked out the Danish tongue, it was closely related to the Norwegian they had learnt and what would give them an advantage. 

The Hobbits were eager learners and Faramir had to admit that it was not all to hard to teach them.

They soon had fashioned the first letter together.

Merry and Pippin had been able to convince Faramir to deliver it to Aragorn's study. Since he was the only one that could go there without attracting attention. He went there so many times in one day that no gave him a second glance.

They were all used to the fact that the Steward oft worked later than the King and left documents for him that he would need the next day.

Faramir slipped the note in partially beneath another document so that Aragorn would not notice it the first thing. Then he slipped out again.

* * *

This time I had to end with a cliff hanger, seeming as how it would not be a two part story if I were to post both parts at the same time. Admit it, if I did that the next chapter would be boring, as I would have naught else than a blank space there. 

So a cliff hanger it is, fear not. I have temporarily issued parachutes to all of our characters that might find themselves in need of them. Hence they should be able to make a safe landing next week, after the usual temporary pause that is here.

Thank you all for reading, Elenhin.

* * *

Silver Sniper: Ah, thank you. What would I do if I did not have you to tell me these things, dreadful thought. Glad you think we are improving at these things, I think that I am getting the hang of how this should be written, as well as of how to get the right amount of humour in it. I am a firm believer of humour in all literature works. If there is no humour in them they are no fun to read. Ah, the desk, the wonderful desk. I think that if you liked the desk in the last chapter, you will have liked this very much as well. I am not done with the desk as of yet. 

Legolas's Girl 9: I interpreted your review into putting in a vote, both for the brothers and for their father as well. I am very glad that you still seem to be enjoying this.

Pasha ToH: I am delighted to know you liked it. It is a rather curious thing really, most everyone seems to have a desk with the same ability, Though my own don't. Instead it takes papers and other stuff that I keep on it and eats it, so that it disappears. We shall just have to face the fact that desks are mysterious creatures that can not be trusted.

warrior'sgambit: Thank you, glad you liked it. As for continuing writing, I had planned something of the sort.

Seadragon68: I am sure it will please Aragorn to know you are amused by his misery. Seriously, glad you liked it, and we are not done yet. Before we are done with Aragorn and his desk we should be able to have you falling off your chair with laughter at least once, and by that time Aragorn will be paranoid.

Earendil Eldar: There really are a lot of people that recognises that treat in their own desks. You are partly right in your guess as of how it works, but there are much more to it than that. I mean, we could not let him off that easy, now could we. No phones and door bells true, but on the other hand you do not have to deal with Hobbits. I think it evens out to about the same.

Steelelf: Glad to know we made you laugh, and glad to know you liked. I Hope that you shall continue to like it just as much.

ForeverFaramir: First the response from Celebrion.

Good, I think... We've gone onto gasp ADJECTIVES! We're out of the verbs at least...

Scots-Gaelic seems somewhat simpler. Mainly because I know the grammar already, my teacher knows this and pushes me a bit further than the rest. Spelling's still an uncracked nut, but I'm working on it... Hope you're not too bored with it already, it's still a beautiful language.

Go dte tu slán, mo chara! (Hope I got that right...)

Then from me, The treat we made of the desk must really be a common one, everyone seems to recognize it. I will definitely be making more on that. Just hold on to your seat so you don't fall of laughing when you read it.

As for Arwen, would you not be afraid of her. She's got who know many years of experience of keeping Elladan and Elrohir in line, I think she know a fair number of nasty things she could do as Revenge. This one here only one of them. So, would you not be afraid, if not I will do my best to make you afraid.

Lindahoyland: We rather thought that it was a good idea, and we have already established that paperwork tends to breed.

Hmm, I think I saw something green gremlin looking thing run around in panic. Will see if I can capture it and take revenge on it for your account.

Horsiegurl: Glad that you found it entertaining. The prank on Faramir did not work, but the Hobbit's does not give up, so it should be interesting to see what happens.

* * *

Here I would like to thank everyone who reads my works, thank you. 

Here it must also be said that in the tale "A Two Colour Chain Mail," we started the vote based on the fact that Sean Bean and David Wenham made the perfect image of two brothers. We also got plenty of agreement on that.

So here it is, if you agree with us and think that they should be real brothers. Say so in your review. It shall be your vote. On my authors page, in the bio I shall keep score. When the score reaches 100, they shall be declared official brothers. Then on my authors page shall be an official declaration written by Elenhin and Celebrion.

Then the truth can not be denied, they shall be brothers.


	19. Desicating the Danish, part two

Author's Note: This is a bit of a joke that I wrote with the help of a friend. We thought that Faramir was skilled at different languages, and wondered just what languages he could speak.

Trying to think of as many as possible, and writing a story on each. Some languages will be from Lord of the Ring, some will not, but we will name them and where they come from. So Have no fear

In this chapter we are doing Danish. The joke of it is based upon the fact that Viggo Mortensen is Danish, and we thought that it was good enough basis for a joke.

This is another chapter that will be posted in two parts. The first have already been posted, and the second one is here.

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Ring, I only borrow parts of it and shall return them as soon as I am done. Completely undamaged, as I am certain it will be impossible to see where we glued the pieces back together.

* * *

**Desiccating the Danish, **part two. 

Here continues Desiccating the Danish, witch makes this into part two, as I said.

Once again have I taken out my given word from its safe storage to post as promised, I hope that you all enjoy it.

/Elenhin

* * *

Two hours before lunch the next day Aragorn came into his study. He stood as he always did.

"Faramir, I'm afraid I need your help with this." Aragorn motioned at the paper in his hand.

"Certainly." Faramir nodded. He took the note and it was indeed the one he had left there the evening before. A small part of him said that it was not right to lead the King along, but then the Queen had asked him to do it.

"It is Danish my Lord." He said as he studied it closer.

"Aragorn, Faramir. Can you translate it for me?"

"Aye, Aragorn. I would be happy to do so for you." Faramir sat down at his desk again and took up his quill. Scribbling the translation onto another paper.

"Do not ask me what it is about." Aragorn turned slightly to look out the window. "I found it on my desk this morn and I have no idea where it came from." He hoped most sincerely that his desk had not taken to spitting out documents in a foreign tongue. He assured himself that that was merely paranoid thinking. There was no way a desk could create documents.

"The paperwork pours in too fast for one to keep track of it, Aye, I know." Faramir gave him a reassuring smile. He was not aware of Aragorn's fears about his desk, but managed to quench them just the same.

"Here you are my lord, Aragorn." Faramir corrected himself.

"Thank you." Aragorn took the paper. "I am ever so grateful that you can translate all these things for me." He smiled warmly at his friends. "Arwen wants to know if you would agree to take lunch with us."

"I have thus far not been able to deny the Queen anything." Faramir smiled wryly. "I do not expect that I will now either. If it is then I shall."

"I am glad for it, we enjoy your company greatly. It will be in our chambers." Aragorn grinned. "Thank you again for your help." He said motioning to the document. "Until lunch then my friend."

Faramir stood while the King walked out of his study, a sign of respect that he had not yet been able to cease. Even if the King had told him that there was no need.

Aragorn read the document as he walked back to his own study. It could not be, it had to be an error. What lady would ever write that she favoured him.

Yet it was what was written on the paper, and Faramir would not have made any error translating. He was too skilled. It had to be correct, and that meant that there was a lady who favoured him greatly. That was a scary thought, especially as he did not know how said lady had been able to have a note delivered to his study.

Feeling utterly confused he sat down at his desk again and tried to focus on his work. There was a document in front of him. He should take care of the document, it was a simple one. He should be able to take care of that. It was very simple, it only needed his signature on it, meaning he would write his name down at the bottom. He dipped his quill in the inkwell and scribbled his name, the spot on the paper was still blank.

He tried again, it did not work, there was not ink on the nib of the quill. He dipped it again, still no ink. He peered into the inkwell, it was empty.

Empty, that could not be, he peered into it again. He had filled it to the brim a mere few days ago. He was sure that there had been ink in it still when he left his study the evening before. How could it be empty now? Still it was.

He sighed and went to fill it up again. He must have used more ink than he had believed, or he had not refilled it when he thought that he had. For surely if he had it would not have been empty now.

Never mind though, there was ink in it again now, and he scribbled his name on the document. At least his mistaking about how much ink he had left had taken his mind off the strange document and he was able to concentrate on his work again.

* * *

Faramir came to the Royal chambers at lunchtime. He was even there a few minutes before Aragorn was. That way he was able to report to Arwen that Aragorn had indeed found the note and that he was utterly confused by it. As well as hoping they were satisfied, for it did not feel right to him to play such a prank on his King. 

"Relax and enjoy it Faramir." Arwen recommended with an easy laugh. "He shall not be wrought with you for this." There was a twinkle of amusement in her eye. "I think that I shall tell you about a few of the pranks that Elladan and Elrohir have played on him over the years. Then you shall see that this is really a nice thing in comparison.

"Still it is not proper, my lady." Faramir smiled. "I shall do my part thought, and I have no doubt that your brothers have done worse as I have heard much about them. Neither do I have any doubt that our two Hobbit friends could have come up with worse."

Further discussion was prevented as Aragorn entered.

"I'm glad that you are already here Faramir." He said rubbing his hands together. "I am starving." He would talk with Arwen about the note later. When they had both retired for the evening. It was not something that should be discussed in front of others, even if Faramir knew about it as he had translated the note.

It was a good thing that Arwen was very understanding, she would not be upset, and she could probably offer some very good advice on what to do.

Lunch proved to be just what he needed. A good meal and pleasant company. Arwen was amusing Faramir with tales of her twin brothers. He laughed happily and even told of a few of Boromir's escapades. Neither Boromir or Faramir had ever played pranks in the meaning of pranks.

"But he loved to act the fool." Faramir explained it. "He could make the soldiers laugh whenever he wanted. The moral was never low when he was around."

"I know." Aragorn reached out a hand to squeeze his shoulder. He had noticed how skilled Boromir was at that on the quest of the ring. He had amused the others with wild tales the whole time, and Aragorn knew how heavily his death weighed on his brother. His little brother, the one that Aragorn wanted to protect now that he no longer had his elder brother to do it.

"He was special." Faramir stated. He could not put it into better words than that, and then he knew, how could it be wrong to aid the Hobbits to do something that Boromir would have done without hesitation. Aragorn had been a friend of Boromir, he had loved that trait in his brother, he would not mind.

"He was very special." Aragorn squeezed his shoulder in a comforting manner again. "He would have been so very proud of you."

Faramir nodded with a smile. Instead of offering his reluctant help he would now do it willingly.

The Hobbits came to him the same evening as they were to write a second note. This time Faramir not only aided them with spelling and grammar. He supplied them with a phrase here and there that would serve to make it better. The two Hobbits giggled as they went over the result, and sent Faramir away to place it in Aragorn's study.

As the day before Faramir slipped in without anyone noticing it. This time there were no documents on the desk, so he merely left it on the polished wood surface. Aragorn would see it as soon as he entered his study in the morning.

* * *

For once Aragorn felt very relaxed as he left for his study. He had discussed the strange Danish note with Arwen, and she had just laughed. Claiming that it was probably something that would not be repeated and that he should not worry about it. She had convinced him that Faramir would never tell anyone about it, and that there was nothing to worry about. Most likely it had been left by some love struck servant girl who wrote it in a language she hoped the King would never be able to read. 

In his study he sat down by the desk and regarded all the documents that littered the surface. It seemed that it was always littered with official documents. Sighing he began to sort through them. Stacking them in different piles. Suddenly he came across another note that seemed to be in Danish. It looked just like the other one, but how could that be? He had desperately hoped that Arwen would be right and there would be nothing more of it.

Now he had two choices, either throw it onto the fire in the hearth and pretend he had never seen it. Or take it to Faramir to get it translated.

He glanced at the very tempting hearth, it was cold. No fire. That meant he would have to take it to Faramir to get it translated. He had rather thought that burning it was a sound option, but there was no helping it.

Faramir looked up when the door to his study opened, and then stood up as he saw who it was.

Aragorn waved at him to sit again and took the seat in front of the desk.

"There was another Danish note on my desk this morn." He said ruefully. "I have no idea of who are writing them."

"Do you wish me to translate it for you?" Faramir asked politely.

"I think that it would be best." Aragorn handed the paper to him. "Though I must say that this makes me uneasy. Have you ever experienced anything like this Faramir."

Faramir had taken the letter and was now writing the translation on another paper. It was easy since he already knew what it said.

"I have never had any secret admirer, no." He said absently as he wrote. "Boromir was the one who was admired, and none of the ladies ever wrote him letters." He looked up with a fond smile. "Then again a good few of them doubted his ability to read."

Aragorn chuckled. "He liked to give off the impression that he was dumber than he looked." He grinned. "Still I find it hard to believe that he was the only one with admirers. I have heard that quite a few ladies were fawning over you."

"If they were it was solely in the hopes of eventually gaining my brothers attention."

"Then why do they still gossip about you." Aragorn challenged. "Arwen tells me that you are quite popular among the ladies."

Faramir blushed, he had not thought the conversation would develop like this and he was trying to think of a way to end it.

"The next one to get anonymous love letters might very well be you." Aragorn teased.

"I very much doubt that." Faramir tried to shake of the suggestion. Eowyn was the only one who was interested in him rather than his position. He finished the translation hurriedly so that he would not have to continue that discussion. Aragorn was looking too smug for him to be comfortable.

"It's translated now sire." He said clearing his throat and handing the paper to Aragorn.

Aragorn skimmed through it and shook his head. "I do not believe this. It's a good thing for me that Arwen is not jealous or she might take offence."

Faramir nodded, though he knew there was no risk that the Queen would take offence. Not this time. Yet it was good to know that one's Queen treated one's King well. Faramir was not sure if the oath to protect the King meant he should bodily step between the King and Queen if said Queen was angered.

"We know one thing about whoever made this at least." Aragorn pointed out. "Whoever it is has some skills at poetry."

Faramir decided that it was a good thing that the King was not familiar with his previous attempts at verse, ere he might have recognized them.

"I hope dearly that this is the last one." Aragorn sighed. "Still, thank you for translating it. I am grateful."

"I am glad that I can be of service." Faramir nodded.

"I am also excepted to ask if you would take lunch with us again." Aragorn smiled. "Arwen claims that it is nice to eat with someone more sophisticated than a Ranger at times."

"Does she not know that I served as Ranger?" Faramir raised his eyebrows. He still was considered a Ranger by most.

"She does, but she believes that you will not cut your meat with your sword." Aragorn quipped. "That is what she thinks of me."

"Mayhap you should not prove your lady right so often." Faramir smiled.

"You are actually making some sense." Aragorn nodded with a smile. "That could actually work. I shall be sure to try it while we eat. Until then." He said in farewell.

Faramir chuckled silently as he was alone again, if nothing else Aragorn was an amusing King.

* * *

He made sure to arrive before the appointed time. Arwen greeted him with a smile when he came. 

"I hope that everything went well." She smiled.

"It went well. "Faramir nodded. "It appears that our King finds the letters rather confusing, and he stated that he was most grateful that his Queen was not likely to be jealous."

"I would not have been even if I had not helped plan it." She assured him. "I do not torture my husband Faramir, you need not fear that."

"So this is not something that I shall expect from Eowyn then." He sighed with relief.

"Not initially no." Arwen gave him a wry smile. "Though I am sure she would be open to some suggestions I could make."

"Please do not." Faramir pleaded. "I do not think I would be able to hold onto my sanity if Eowyn were to play with my mind like that."

"Faramir, have you not yet understood that all women play with their husband's minds in some way or another. What other fun do we have?"

Faramir swallowed. "I do not think I dare to get married." He choked.

"Why ever would you not?" Aragorn had heard the last phrase as he entered. "You shall never know how wonderful it is if you allow your lady to frighten me."

"T'was not my own lady that frightened me." Faramir glanced at Arwen.

"So you have gotten letters of your own then." Aragorn brightened up at the prospect of not being the only one who were given strange letters. "You had better not let Eowyn find them. I do not think that she would be to happy over it."

"I rather doubt she would." Faramir swallowed, the conversation was beginning to make him feel uneasy, again. What was it with the King and Queen and the way they always found their way to the subjects that he would rather avoid?

"Estel, you are frightening him off, and Eowyn would not be happy with you either if you were the reason her betrothed ran off in fright."

"You mean that there is a reason for doing that?" Faramir did not like the way his voice had hitched.

"Of course not, do not be silly Faramir." Arwen laughed.

Yet when Faramir looked at Aragorn he was nodding with a solemn expression.

"It's too late, is it not." Faramir cleared his throat but it did not really help.

"Much too late." Aragorn nodded.

"Estel!" Arwen exclaimed.

"Still I have to admit that it is worth it." Aragorn rubbed his arm where Arwen had struck him lightly.

"You shan't regret marrying Eowyn." Arwen stated. "Now stop behaving like fools and come eat before the food gets cold."

"You promise that it is worth it?" Faramir whispered to Aragorn as they followed Arwen.

"I have not regretted my decision yet." Aragorn whispered back. "Though I must warn you about one thing thought."

"What?" Faramir hissed.

"Elves can hear the faintest whisper." Aragorn grinned as Faramir blushed having realized his mistake.

* * *

After a week Aragorn began fearing that he would lose his sanity. The strange notes kept pouring in. There were declarations of love, there were poems. The latest one was the worst though. Whoever wrote it had declared that her life was ruined since Aragorn would not respond to her pleadings. 

She claimed to be in tears, since she had left her heart open and had been crudely ignored. There was some stains on the paper where some liquid had fallen. Aragorn assumed that it was the mentioned tears that had done it.

On his end Faramir sought to convince the others that it was time to end the fun while it was still fun. He claimed that it had begun to distract the King to far, and that he was afraid to reach a level where the King would actually initiate punishment.

"Lets just make sure that we end this with style." Arwen smiled. "We shall have a surprise for him when he comes for his lunch."

* * *

Aragorn was slightly surprised to see two Hobbits in is chamber as he and Faramir entered. Merry and Pippin was chatting happily with Arwen. 

"I asked them to make us company today." Arwen smiled. "They claimed they had not gotten a decent meal in hours."

"We haven't." Pippin exclaimed. "No one in this City has ever heard of second breakfast."

"T'is really a shame." Merry nodded.

"We shall see if we can make that right then." Aragorn smiled. "I would not have my friends lack anything." He chuckled as they headed into the dining room. Faramir taking up the rear as he was slightly anxious about the reaction.

By Aragorn's seat was a bouquet of roses and a rolled up parchment.

"What is that?" He choked.

"I have no idea." Arwen held her mask perfectly. "I would say that you should see what it is and then tell us."

Aragorn unwrapped the parchment with the same care he would uncoil a venomous snake with. He stared at it in shook.

"Its Danish again." He complained. "Who is writing these weird letters in Danish?." Then his expression brightened. "Wait! This time it is signed." He suddenly looked very baffled. "Merry, Pippin, Arwen and Faramir. You have done this."

The two Hobbits lay laughing in a pile on the floor, Arwen was laughing so hard she looked like she might join them. Faramir looked just as much ashamed as amused.

"Faramir, all the time I've asked you for translating you were actually writing these?" Aragorn whined, and seeing his expression Faramir could no longer hold back the laughter.

When the laughter had subsided and they sat down to eat the explanations began.

"T'was our idea, mostly." Pippin grinned around a mouth full.

"We thought that since it did not work on Faramir it might work on you." Merry added helpfully.

"Faramir, you actually were a part of this, I am disappointed in you." The King said, though with a smile to take the sting from it.

"Aye, I was convinced to give my aid." Faramir nodded.

"He was most reluctant to do so." Arwen smiled at her husband. "I had to ask him after Merry and Pippin failed."

"Wouldn't do it no matter how much we begged at first." Pippin glared cheerfully at the Steward.

"T'was you who said that I should always obey my Queen." Faramir shrugged, glad that the King was not wroth with either one of them, yet feeling a little guilty over his part still.

"I think that I am beginning to regret my words." Aragorn muttered. "No, I take that back Faramir. You were in perfect right. How many times have I not said I want you to trust me as a friend. If that means I have to put up with things like this, than so be it." He grinned his most intimidating grin. "Besides, now I have the perfect excuse for taking revenge. Merry, Pippin, Shall you help me?"

Faramir gulped and nearly choked on his food.

"Ah, you need not fear, I shan't take any revenge on you." Aragorn assured Faramir with a laugh.

"You're no fun." Pippin whined.

"T'would have been fun." Merry stated sullenly.

"Why'd ye have to ruin it." Pippin glared at Aragorn

"Because Faramir looked near frightened enough not to sleep, and I need him to do his work. Of course if the two of you would take over the Steward's chores…" Aragorn allowed the sentence to be a threat hanging in the air.

"Ye don't have to worry Faramir, we won't let him take any revenge on ye." Pippin hurried to say.

"We'll protect ye." Merry promised and the others laughed at their expression.

"No more pranks for some time though." Aragorn said and the others nodded in agreement. All of them were quite satisfied for the moment.

Since there is a truce with the pranks there is nothing more for me to say for the temporality. I shall therefore take twenty four hours to reevaluate my temporally ending, then I shall decide that this can not be allowed to be and begin writing on the next chapter. With all temporally speed it shall be typed on my keyboard and some temporary next week it shall be posted.

Until then, fare ye all well and beware the Danish letters.

* * *

_Pronounciation Guide by Celebrion:_

_Whaa! Nothing for me to do this week! I think I shall have to actually go study... Communal gasp of astonishment from my immediate enviroment._

_Since there is nothing more here for me to do other than saying that my lovely co-author is beginning to 'temporary' lose her mind when writing these 'temporary' endings she loves,_

_I bid ye a pleasant week and an assurance that there will be a next week that'll stay whatever Elenhín decides to do about it. Pleasant dreams!

* * *

_

Silver Sniper: I agree, it is horrible not having anything to look forward to, and it makes me more proud than I can say, to know you look forward to this. Now you should be equally proud, I have been working myself to a sweat every week trying to make the title sound just right, as well as fit with the chapter, it does not always work, but I do my best.

Also, the word most commonly used for me and Celebríon is crazy, and insane. At least that is what everyone tells us, then again that is our friends, so we do not mind. Just thought you might like to know that.

Mysterious Jedi: Well, there are other people that could convince him, but it is not very likely that Aragorn will ask him to play a prank on Aragorn. Eowyn might be able to as well, but it would take more convincing, the Queen was just faster, and so we used her.

ForeverFaramir: Celebrían/ Frankly I'm beginning to tire of it slightly aswell. Everything is fun until you start learning the rules... I'm going to stick with it to the bitter end though, it'll great to have when I go to Ireland one day... And as for the kids, please do! My professor is from the Gaeltachta and a true activist for the survival of Gaelic both as a language and a lifestyle. He tells us to help promote the entire Celtic heritage to other people so they interest themselves in one or more of the languages, making the Celtic Section at my university grow (as we're the only one's the country having one!). And as for the Gaelic here, Elenhin and I are coming up with new plots whenever we speak to each other and not only Celtic languages are being used and abused... Continue to r&r, we love every word it!

Elenhín/ Yes, having kept them two in line I do not think it would be healthy to underestimate Arwen. Aragorn might have to be careful, I think that Faramir is safe though, Arwen has some older siblings protective instincts towards him. She will be nice to him, and take revenge at Aragorn at the same time.

Horsiegurl: Ah, and we are very grateful to you for telling us as usual. It means a lot to us.

Legolas's Girl 9: Thank you, it is always a pleasure to read your encouraging words. Thank you again meldir nin.

Lindahoyland: Well, they say that Faramir have the ability to read the hearts of men, I assume that works for Hobbits as well. Both Arwen and Aragorn are as always trying to prove to Faramir that they love him for a friend, just the way he is. They will be able to make him overcome his shyness. Considering how much I love your tale, I can not express how much it means to have you say you like this, Thank you.

Steelelf: I take it you were still rolling on the floor laughing when you wrote the review, well, it was supposed to make you laugh. So I shall just write that down as an success, and hope that you love just as much this time, if not more. Take care now, and may you laugh when you read this crazy thing.


	20. Portuguese Surprise

Author's Note: This is a bit of a joke that I wrote with the help of a friend. We thought that Faramir was skilled at different languages, and wondered just what languages he could speak.

Trying to think of as many as possible, and writing a story on each. Some languages will be from Lord of the Ring, some will not, but we will name them and where they come from. So Have no fear

Portuguese here, and we are counting on the fact that many strange things cross the ocean. The create with the Portuguese things was brought by ship, from a foreign land, and brought to the king. Thus a Portuguese crate wounds up in Minas Tirith, and King Aragorn and King Eomer is very confused because of it. I hope you shall enjoy it.

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Ring, I only borrow parts of it and shall return them as soon as I am done. Completely undamaged, as I am certain it will be impossible to see where we glued the pieces back together.

* * *

Portuguese Surprise

Aragorn and Eomer stood watching the crate. They had been doing that for some time now. Ever since the crate had been delivered to be precise. Eomer was dropping by for a visit as he did ever so often. This particularly time Aragorn appreciated the company as his Steward was away in Ithilien for a few days. He would return shortly, but no one knew exactly which day.

Eomer looked over the crate again. "The label clearly states that it is a gift to the King of Gondor." He stated. "It is definately for you Aragorn."

"But the label does not say who it is from." Aragorn pointed out.

"Part of the label is missing." Eomer shrugged. "It's probably written there."

"Which means I do not know who sent it no matter if it was written on the label or not. We do not know what's inside." Aragorn eyed it spuriously.

"That is why you open it." Eomer declared. "To find out what is inside. Look at it this way. There should be a letter inside."

"You have a point my friend, a rather good point." Aragorn nodded and moved to open it. "If it is something nasty we can always shut the lid again."

"A wise decision." Eomer agreed and moved closer the better to see. "I knew you would come to it even if it took time."

Aragorn pried of the lid and peeked inside. "It's a lot of straw in here." He noted. "I'm guessing that whatever it is has been packed in the straw, so that rules out a few of the nastier things it could be."

"Let's take it inside so we can go though it and see what it is." Eomer suggested.

It was not a very big crate and thus Eomer hefted it easily and carried it to Aragorn's study. They put it on a corner of the desk.

Eomer lifted out two bottles with a golden brown liquid in them. "I think that we've found some alcohol." He declared cheerfully.

Aragorn fished out a basket of some golden yellow fruit that was round, and yet pointy at the ends. There were also some well wrapped sausages and what looked to be even more well wrapped cheese.

"Ah, here we are." Eomer handed Aragorn a folded paper. "That should tell you who it is from."

Aragorn unfolded it and studied it briefly. "I think it does, a shame that I have no idea of what it says." He frowned. "I have never seen this language before Eomer."

"Let me see." Eomer took the paper. He had never seen anything like it before either.

"T'is a shame that Faramir is not here." Aragorn sighed. "He should at least be able to tell us what kind of language it is."

"It's annoying with all those weird tongues he can speak." Eomer shrugged uneasily. "Should not be possible to know so many."

"He has a talent for it." Aragorn laughed. "And he claims that Ithilien was rather boring. Still, it would have been good to have him here now. Hopefully he would be able to read that letter."

"We don't need the letter." Eomer grinned confidently. "At least not for now. This is a fruit right." He hefted one of the yellow fruits in his hand. "We both know what one does with fruits. What do we need the letter for. We don't even know if it says anything more than who sent it."

"It is a fruit, aye. But I would like to know more about it than that it is a fruit. You are more than welcome to it though." He gestured at the yellow fruit. "We don't even know if it's supposed to be yellow or if it's not ripe yet." He pointed out.

Eomer probed it gently with his finger. "Feels ripe enough. What do you say we try it?" He grinned at Aragorn and there was a twinkle in his eyes.

"You go ahead." Aragorn allowed and watched as Eomer cut the fruit with his knife. He held up a generous slice.

"Are you sure that you don't want any?" He asked and Aragorn shook his head.

Eomer took a big bite and his expression was priceless as he spat it out again. Aragorn was laughing so hard he was grasping his sides because Eomer still looked so funny.

"That's inedible." Eomer complained. "I have never tasted anything so sour, not even healers concoctions."

"We rule out the fruit from the food list then." Aragorn grinned. "What more is there." He eyed the rest of the items. "Are you brave enough to try any of these?" He asked winking at his friend.

"Ha, a warrior of Rohan fears nothing." Eomer declared as he took a warrior stance. He picked up one of the sausages. "Sausages should be safe to eat, right?" He turned to look at Aragorn.

"You are the brave warrior who fears nothing." Aragorn chuckled. "You try it." He rather thought that this was amusing. Eomer still glared at the yellow fruit whenever he laid eyes on it.

Eomer carefully unwrapped one of the sausages and sniffed it carefully. "Smells like there is some garlic in it." He declared. Aragorn gestured for him to try it.

Eomer cut a small slice of it and nibbled it. "It's definitively garlic." He declared whit his eyes watering. He ate the rest of the slice. "Strong, but it's rather good." He turned to look around. "Have you got anything to drink here?" He asked as the heavily spiced sausage burned in his mouth.

Aragorn went to pour him a goblet of water from the pitcher. Laughing the whole time. Yet he actually tried a little of the sausages. He too had to drink some large amounts of water afterwards, and there was a strong taste of garlic, but it was not all that bad. Between them they finished of the sausage.

"What think you of the cheese?" Eomer eyed it curiously.

"I think that we shall not find out whatever it is good or not by looking at it." Now Aragorn was getting curious. Standing close together they unwrapped it and Eomer stuck his knife in the cheese. Both men simultaneously bolted for the door.

When they stood panting with their backs pressed to the door planks they turned to look at each other.

"That can not have been cheese." Eomer declared.

"I think that it was a cheese." Aragorn said. "Mayhap it has turned foul."

"I have never seen a cheese turn that foul. And I have seen some really bad cheese." Eomer declared. "Aragorn I can smell it through the door."

"We have to get rid if it." Aragorn sighed.

"How?" Eomer turned to Aragorn for a solution.

There was no avoiding it. "Go and fetch a spade and meet me in the garden and I shall have found some way to get close enough to it."

While Eomer went in search of a spade Aragorn tied a handkerchief over his mouth and nose and collected all his courage before ducking inside his study again. He regarded the cheese that lay on the desk. He poked it gingerly with his sword, it did not move. Well, if the smell was anything to go by it should have been dead for a couple of centuries. He managed to hook the wrapping on the edge of his sword point and lifted it out thusly.

Eomer came into the Kings garden with a spade over his shoulder, caught whiff of the cheese and stopped to tie his handkerchief over his face. It was decidedly less clean than Aragorn's but it was better than nothing.

As soon as it was in place he began digging. He did not stop until he stood in a waist deep hole. By the tips of two swords the cheese was poked close to the edge and into the hole. Eomer immediately began to shovel the earth back into the hole.

As soon as it was filled the two men congratulated each other on having diverted a disaster and went back into the study. Aragorn threw open all the windows to air it out.

"That was close." He heaved a sigh of relief.

Eomer nodded and eyed the bottle suspiciously. "I'm not sure that I dare try that. It looks to be alcohol, but that thing we buried looked to be cheese."

"Were you not a brave warrior who feared naught just a moment earlier." Aragorn teased. "What happened to make you change your mind about that."

"You feared it as much as I did." Eomer pointed out. "Do you think that there is a way to make alcohol bad Aragorn?"

The sausage had been edible so there should be a good chance it was perfectly safe to drink.

"We have both survived Eowyn's cooking." Aragorn stated. "We should be able to handle it." He picked up the bottle. "Come, if we go to the garden the worst that can happen is that we need to dig another hole."

It was a sound reasoning so Eomer picked up two goblets and followed him. Aragorn uncorked the bottle and poured a little in both goblets. He noted the fact that there was no stench, and the rich golden brown of the liquid.

"Shouldn't be a problem." Aragorn noted with a grin, they raised their goblets and touched their rims together and both men drank at the same time.

Both med went down on their knees choking and coughing at the same time.

"Alcohol, but what have they done with it?" Eomer coughed with tears streaming down his cheeks.

Aragorn had not yet regained enough breath to respond.

"Is this a private gathering for Kings only." An amused voice sounded from the entrance.

Both looked up to see the Steward of Gondor standing there, regarding them with amused curiosity.

Eomer uttered a string of Rohirric curses that burned hotter than the alcohol had.

"We can't allow there to be any witnesses to this." Aragorn uttered silently.

Eomer nodded, he would make the man pay for that smug smile.

"No offence Faramir, but you are a witness and we'd rather there were not any." Aragorn said softly as he approached his Steward and friend.

"Have you had a garlic gathering here?" The intense smell of garlic distracted Faramir from their menacing approach.

"It's nothing personal." Eomer shrugged as he clasped a hand over the other mans mouth. He would make him pay for having witnessed the spectacle of the two Kings on their knees. He

also was not about to allow the Steward to make a claim that the King of Rohan could not facedown a drink.

Faramir's eyes was large and a slight bit fearful as the hand was clasped securely over his mouth.

"Shall I dig a hole we can dump him in?" Aragorn asked thoughtfully as he gestured toward the spade.

"No." Eomer shook his head. "T'would take to long to dig." He jerked his head towards the fountain, and grinned as he winked at Aragorn."

"Excellent." Aragorn rubbed his hands together eagerly.

"You pick him up and I'll make sure he does not scream." Eomer commanded.

Faramir tried to back away, he defiantly tried, but Eomer had a secure hold and Aragorn soon had him off the ground. As they approached the fountain Faramir tried to beg for mercy. Something that is rather hard when someone has a hand over one's mouth.

Eomer counted of to three and Faramir suddenly found that there was no hold restraining him any longer. Unfortunately there was nothing but air and eventually the water in a fountain beneath him.

One dip in a fountain later the two Kings were explaining things to a very soaked Steward.

Aragorn retrieved the letter and allowed Faramir to look at it.

"Its Portuguese." He said after reading the first line.

"I told you its bloody creepy the way he knows all those accursed languages." Eomer stated forcefully.

"Do you wish to know what it says?" Faramir grinned. "I can read it easily, but if you do not want me to…" He did not finish the sentence.

"Do you want another bath?" Eomer threatened. "Read it."

Faramir read it out loud. "So you see." He said after he had read all of it. "You can squeeze the juice out of the lemons and mix it with water and sugar to get a pleasant drink. They warn of eating them like they are since they are rather sour."

Aragorn chuckled and Eomer glared at him while Faramir looked at them confused.

"The sausages are best devoured with ale as they are rather strongly spiced." Faramir went on. "They also have a strong taste of garlic, so that explains that."

"May I drench him Aragorn." Eomer pleaded. "He's getting to cheeky."

"I want to hear the rest." Aragorn objected. "If he gets to cheeky we can always give him another bath later."

Faramir glared at them and wrung out his still soaked tunic. "The bottle contains an alcohol that is called rum." He said as he eyed them carefully. "It's best drunken chilled as it is also is rather strong. So that explains that as well." He ducked as Eomer swung his fist at him. "Then there is a cheese that they claim to be something really special, as it has an extremely well savoured as well as potent smell and favoured taste. They claim that those who can not understand the fine points of it often mistakenly thinks that it stinks." He gave the two men curious glances. "I have seen evidence of all the rest. What happened to the cheese."

Aragorn gave a guilty grin and motioned to a patch of grass that looked as if someone had been digging in it recently, and where a spade was stuck in the ground.

"You buried it?" Faramir looked at them in disbelief.

"T'was your fault." Eomer shrugged. "If you had been here to translate earlier we would never have been forced to such drastic measures."

"You buried a gift from the Portuguese." Faramir stated. He was not really surprised. It would never occur to Eomer to wait until he knew what he were doing.

Both men nodded guiltily.

"If you tell we throw you into a well instead of just a fountain." Eomer promised.

Faramir swallowed as he had not doubt that Eomer meant it.

Since further writing at this point might have the result that our favourite Stewards gets to take a bath in a deep well I find it safest to end the tale here.

For those of you familiar with the temporary endings, no further explanation is needed. For those of you who are not familiar with them it means that this is a temporary ending until I can post the next chapter.

Which will be next week.

_Pronounciation Guide by Celebrion:_

_Is she lazy or does she simply not have the words for it?_

_Soon I might aswell rename this part of the chapters "Random Rabblings by Celebrion"..._

_At least temporarily..._

_Temporary termination until I get something to do again.

* * *

_

Silver Sniper: Once again your review was one of the best things that happened this week. We can never know if every separate chapter is good, and to see that you liked it is great. It appears that quite many found the desk frightening, if only you all knew how much more frightening the desk can become. I doubt Aragorn will dare being in the same room as it, that will be fun to see. Aragorn refusing to go near his desk.

Legolas's Girl 9: Again as always, thank you. It is wonderful to have your encouragement and support.

Horsiegurl: I am glad to hear that you thought it was funny, as we are still trying to make all of our readers fall to the floor laughing as they read.

Lindahoyland: I think that Faramir could be involved in worse pranks and Aragorn still taking them in good turn. It would however be hard to get Faramir to agree to it, I had to send Arwen to him because he refused the two Hobbits I sent first.

I loved your new tale, I loved it as much as I ever loved the other one. It is just great beyond my vocabulary.

Seadragon68: I am glad that I could satisfy your knowledge and about the fact that it actually does reproduce. It is a very unusual desk that one, as Aragorn shall find out over time.

Forever Faramir: Celebríon: Ummm, I don't where he's from... He's keepnig rather silent about it, but that could just be him teaching Scots-Gaelic at the moment...

But, jeezes, FOUTEEN years? How are you still alive! But then again, you probably went a bit slower than we do... And then we have an examination coming up Thursday... Meeep! I'm going to be a wreck by then...

Elenhín: Would I allow Aragorn to do any kind of lasting damage to Faramir. I specify lasting as I realised what Aragorn did to him above, oh well, no living human has ever died from a bath.

As for the desk scaring you, what do you think that it is supposed to do, Aragorn will be terrified before it is done, and it rather sounds like you will be that as well. Do not worry though, I can control the desk. You shall however have to wait just a little to find out what it is up to.

* * *

Here I would like to thank everyone who reads my works, thank you.

Here it must also be said that in the tale "A Two Colour Chain Mail," we started the vote based on the fact that Sean Bean and David Wenham made the perfect image of two brothers. We also got plenty of agreement on that.

So here it is, if you agree with us and think that they should be real brothers. Say so in your review. It shall be your vote. On my authors page, in the bio I shall keep score. When the score reaches 100, they shall be declared official brothers. Then on my authors page shall be an official declaration written by Elenhin and Celebrion.

Then the truth can not be denied, they shall be brothers.


	21. Inquiries of Interesting Insults

Author's Note: This is a bit of a joke that I wrote with the help of a friend. We thought that Faramir was skilled at different languages, and wondered just what languages he could speak.

Trying to think of as many as possible, and writing a story on each. Some languages will be from Lord of the Ring, some will not, but we will name them and where they come from. So Have no fear

Let us just say that this is a lot of different languages all in one take, and that if there is any mistakes with them we are sorry. You can see down at the bottom exactly what languages we have used, as well as what they translations of them are.

The plot this time comes from an idea of Legolas's Girl 9, and I modified it until it turned out the way I wanted it.

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Ring, I only borrow parts of it and shall return them as soon as I am done. Completely undamaged, as I am certain it will be impossible to see where we glued the pieces back together.

* * *

Inquiries of Interesting Insults

The tavern maid brought an new round of frothing tankards of ale, no one knew how many they had had already, for she kept removing the old ones. It was however enough for the three men at the table to be quite drunk.

Eomer was surprised, pleasantly surprised though. Aragorn and Eomer was in Rohan. Aragorn on matters of state, and he had dragged Faramir along so that Eowyn would get to visit her brother. Not to mention that Aragorn was more than happy to have Faramir's help.

Eomer had rather expected something like that, and would in fact have been disappointed if Aragorn had not seen fit to bring Eowyn along.

The way he saw it Faramir was a bonus, for he wanted to get to know the man better. All of it which had been a pleasant surprise.

At first when his sister introduced them Eomer had though Faramir to be dull and boring. A man of books who knew naught of what was important, horses, ale and fighting. Yet the man had proved himself rather quickly. He was a good rider if not up to Rohan standards. He could stand his ground with his sword, and it appeared he could hold his drink well enough as well.

At least well enough to have kept pace with Aragorn and Eomer most of the evening, granted, he was a couple of tankards behind Eomer, but so was Aragorn. Neither of the two men were used to the potent ale of Rohan and so it was only to be expected.

He tossed the tavern maid a coin for the ales, and smiled at her. She was a pretty enough thing, plump and nicely shaped. A sweet thing to rest your eyes upon. She scurried off between the tables and he followed her with his eyes. She was definitely pretty enough. Smiling he pondered whatever he should invite her to share the next round with them or not, however his expression turned grim as he watched a rider approach her.

The man was staggering so much that he should never have approached any lady. A man that drunk did not know how to appreciate a nice lady.

Something that was very apparent when he grabbed a hold of her wrist even thought she tried to shove him away from her. When the Rider's hands began moving across her dress Eomer was on his feet and on the way over there. Closely followed by both Aragorn and Faramir.

Everyone else backed away when the new King came over, everyone but the drunk Rider who was too drunk and too occupied to notice.

Eomer could have tapped his shoulder gently to get his attention, instead he punched him full force with his clenched fist. The Rider went down, but was to drunk to feel the pain, instead he clambered to his feet again.

He was also too drunk to fully comprehend Eomer's furious expression. Had he been more sober the three men in front of him would have made an intimidating image. Eomer wore a look of utter furry, Aragorn of cold unlashed anger, and Faramir's expression was blank, but his eyes was cold and offered no sympathy for the Rider.

Faramir had taken the tavern maid so that she now stood between himself and Aragorn. Faramir stood just slightly in front of her, with an arm protectively around her so that she was shielded and protected from the drunk Rider.

Having realised that the man who had knocked him down was his King the Rider wisely did not try to fight him. Of course that was thanks to some of his friends who had held him back by force until they managed to get that piece of information into him.

In the morning the Rider would be punished, Eomer would assign some men to teach him a lesson, and he would learn it. If not Eomer would deal personally with the other men. For now he intended to make clear to the foul creature just what Eomer though about him, and anyone else who would force his attention upon a woman.

The Rohirric curses and insults he roared were ones he fully mastered, and he knew how to make the words stick to the man who had to take them. The problem was that he had had no idea that his supply was so limited. He had rather not thought he would run out of them so soon, but he was actually forced to repeat himself.

Aragorn stepped in helpfully and added a few Gondorian ones that added to the insult, it was an ever greater insult for the man to be shouted at with Gondorian expressions, and Eomer took pleasure in it.

Too much pleasure to end is so soon, only he was running out of the curses again.

Faramir who stood with the tavern maid would actually have liked to thump the man around a bit himself, if was clear that the tavern maid was upset, and Faramir did not take well to one who would treat any woman like that.

"_Bar_." Faramir muttered to Eomer.

At first Eomer was surprised, but then he added it into the line of curses. He had never thought that the Gondorian who were a slight bit shy would be helpful as a supply of curses, but Faramir's expression was grim, and there was no mistaking his thoughts on the matter.

Eomer had no idea what it actually meant, but it was in the insults-and-curses category, and that was all he needed to know.

"_Culo_." Faramir muttered again, and Eomer made good use of it, never mind what tongue it was. The scum in front of him was stung by it.

"_Paska pää_." Faramir supplied dutifully in a neutral but cold voice. "_Porci, bastarda, lamas. Baljós Arnyak_."

Eomer roared them all out with just as much fury, and the scum cowered away from his fury like the creepy scum he was.

In the end Eomer allowed the other Riders to drag him away. The punishment would come when he was sober enough to fully appreciate it.

"What was that?" Eomer asked Faramir as they drained the last tankard before heading back.

"Just a few expressions I know of that seemed fitting." Faramir shrugged. He knew that Eomer thought that his language skills were quite useless, and took the chance to prove otherwise. "The more languages a man knows, the more curses he knows."

Aragorn laughed at the statement and Eomer could not help but agree.

There is a limit for how long Eomer can curse, as well as for how long I can write about the same thing. Since I have reached my limit just about now, I shall end this chapter here. As usual there shall be a new one posted next week.

I would also like to point out to Celebríon that in this one I have not used the word temporarily even once, and definitely not twice, no matter how much I usually stick temporary words in it somewhere. You never believed I could do that did you:)

* * *

Wordlist._ and incorporated Pronounciation Guide by Celebrion._

_As you probably know by now, everything (or next to) in cursive is me speaking._

Latin:

Bar- Stupid/Idiot _a very British 'a' and a rolling 'r'_

Italian:

Culo-Ass _'Koolo' with a short 'l'_

Porci-Swine/pig _'Porrchi', you know this from previous chapters_

Bastarda-You devil _(or illegimate child) 'Bastarrda', British 'a';s and rolling 'r';s_

Finnish:

Finnish is pronounced as it's spelled, thankfully, but some of the sounds are not familiar to most English speakers. That's why I'm here... 

Paska pää- Idiot/Moron _'S' should be pronounced with the tip of your (prefferably not someone else's) tongue at the back of your front teeth, the 'a';s kind of like British and the 'ää' sounds very much like a Texan/Yoklian 'a' with less nasal work._

Lamas- Sheep _A short 'l' and then same directions as above_

Hungarian:

Baljós Arnyak-Omnius Shadow _I have NO idea how to pronounce Hungarian, it makes my tongue twist into knots just trying... (Really, you wouldn't want that to happen...)_

_Random Rabblings by Celebrion:_

_Actually, I should have at least expected something like that... _

_I hope you haven't gotten a sudden case of saneness all of a sudden, that would make me the only mad person writing in this fic... And that wouldn't be half as fun...damn it.

* * *

_

Here I would like to thank everyone who reads my works, thank you.

Here it must also be said that in the tale "A Two Colour Chain Mail," we started the vote based on the fact that Sean Bean and David Wenham made the perfect image of two brothers. We also got plenty of agreement on that.

So here it is, if you agree with us and think that they should be real brothers. Say so in your review. It shall be your vote. On my authors page, in the bio I shall keep score. When the score reaches 100, they shall be declared official brothers. Then on my authors page shall be an official declaration written by Elenhin and Celebrion.

Then the truth can not be denied, they shall be brothers.

* * *

Horsiegurl: Ah, but that is exactly what we are trying to do, I am so glad that it works.

Legolas's Girl 9: I did not think of that one actually, we really wanted it to be vague, leaves more for the imagination.

Mysterious Jedi: It does rather look that way, does it not, but fear not. They are not really mean. If they ever were to mean to Faramir, just think of what Eowyn would do to them. It is more of a friendly teasing, and funny I hope.

ForeverFaramir: Considering that comment about Daisy in a wet shirt, trust me that I thought about you when I wrote the Bath House Peril, and if you are very nice I will make him wet again. I do not think that there was anything from Celebríon this time, I hope not, because if there was I have misplaced it. Ah, anyway, yes Eomer and Aragorn would wind up burying the cheese, I mean, they just did that…

Anyway, I hope that you liked this as well.

Silver Sniper: I hope that your computer id feeling better now, computer viruses are evil things. I know how hard it sometimes is to make a computer work.

Jess: We would be happy to add in anything asian, but we would have to ask you to help us, because we do not know any ourselves. If you think that you could supply us with something we would be more than happy to use it.

Lindahoyland: Yes, those two Kings tend to be rather amusing when you put them together, and Faramir fits right into it. He can be very amusing when he wants to. Is not Eomer slightly suspicious of anything that someone can do better than him, especially if that someone is Gondorian.


	22. Die Könige sind Dumköpfe part one

Author's Note: This is a bit of a joke that I wrote with the help of a friend. We thought that Faramir was skilled at different languages, and wondered just what languages he could speak.

Trying to think of as many as possible, and writing a story on each. Some languages will be from Lord of the Ring, some will not, but we will name them and where they come from. So Have no fear.

This particularly one is German, and this time we have opted for some more serious and deep thoughts in the tale. Meaning that there will be some angst in there as well. We are doing that with Earendil Eldar in mind for the comment of, "_And to think... you haven't even exacted any torture on the poor dear._" Well, now we have. It was only a matter of time before that happened. I hope that you shall enjoy what we did though.

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Ring, I only borrow parts of it and shall return them as soon as I am done. Completely undamaged, as I am certain it will be impossible to see where we glued the pieces back together.

Now, please read this, 'ehurm', masterful work, or whatever it is. I do however hope you enjoy it.

* * *

Die Könige sind Dumköpfe, part one

The men met in good faith. With a village that that had considered themselves independent from both Gondor and Rohan. They had not allied themselves with anyone at all for a few generations. Now they claimed they wanted to strike a deal.

Their wish was to continue much as before, but they were willing to make it beneficial for both parts.

Their suggestion was that they would be given the land around their village, and in exchange they would send soldiers to the armies. Thus far they had trained their own men. Now they were willing to send them for proper training as soldiers.

Officially the land would still belong to Gondor and Rohan, but they would own it themselves.

Aragorn thought that it was an acceptable idea. They should all profit from it.

Eomer thought so as well.

They had agreed to meet with the villagers. Gladly agreed to meet with them, since Aragorn was grateful for an excuse to leave the city for some time, chafing to be coped up between the walls for to long.

Since Eomer was always seeking an excuse to escape the paper work involved with being a King, he was more than happy to come along. He had brought with him one of his men, Telheart.

Aragorn had brought Faramir, since the young man was a great help in dealing with other peoples. He was also much better with the official documents than either Aragorn or Eomer.

Aragorn had decided that he was someone very useful to have along.

Eomer and Telheart also liked him well enough. Since all of them were trained soldiers they saw no need to bring more men along. The villagers appeared friendly enough, and there was no reason to expect trouble of any kind. They should be able to come to an agreement without any problem.

Eomer and Telheart were likable enough with their loud easy manners. Aragorn had an air about him that seemed to earn him much respect. Faramir was quiet by nature. He mostly sat silent and watching, not really involving himself in the conversation. When asked he offered his opinions and they were usually good ones. Even the villagers paid heed to him since he always listened to both sides before he uttered his opinion.

Even as he was not actively involved in the conversation he was very attentive and heard the quiet whisper that the others had missed. One of the other men had uttered a quiet whisper in another tongue.

"Die Könige sind Dumköpfe."

He gave away no hint that he had heard what they had said, but he drew Aragorn and Eomer aside.

"I have a feeling that we are not really welcome here," he told them. "I overheard an insult."

"What did they say?" Eomer asked.

Faramir repeated the phrase. "It is not a tongue commonly used here. My guess is that they believed that none of us would be able to understand it," he said. "It was a clear insult. 'The Kings are fools.'"

"I take it you know the language well enough to be certain," Aragorn stated.

Faramir nodded.

"Tell me if you catch on to anything else," Aragorn decided. "For now we shall proceed as before. It could just be that they do not care for us personally. But I still want to know if you hear anything else."

"I'll be sure to pay attention," Faramir promised. "I think we should be cautious though. If it was merely because they disliked us, then why use such an uncommon tongue?"

"They probably just did not want us to know about it," Eomer shrugged. "I have been insulted before, it is nothing new to be called a fool." He grinned. "In fact I have been called much worse things."

"I as well. There is probably no need to worry, Faramir," Aragorn assured him. He was aware of how Faramir reacted to insults. Both those directed to him and towards others. It was because of how Denethor had treated him in his later years. Harsh words really hurt him, and he was unable to look at them as anything but personal. He would take an insult that was thrown at him without thought to heart.

Something that was evident when he and Eowyn argued. One of her barbed comments could have him walking around feeling hurt for days. Even if she had not really meant anything ill with it.

Even Eomer had noticed this, and had asked his sister to mind what she said to him.

Faramir nodded now. Deciding that the two men were probably right. There was no obvious reason that the men in the village would be after them in particularly, after all they had been the one to make contact with the Kings. They wanted this, so why would they be out to sabotage it?

He made sure to pay close attention whenever they spoke as he wanted to be sure he would not miss anything. He took careful notes every time they spoke. If anything was said that was not right he would not miss it.

One day afterwards Aragorn drew him aside. "Faramir, I think you take this to seriously," he said. "It was an insult, not a threat."

"I know sire, but why would they speak such an insult if they meant nothing with it," Faramir was confused. To him there was only one kind of insult. Those akin to threats.

"I would not know, but the way you note down every single thing said might be taken as an insult to them," Aragorn made sure to keep his voice warm. "I do not want you to let down your guard Faramir. But I do not want you to give them the impression that your guard is up. I do not want for them to read something in our behaviour that is not there."

"I understand, sire," Faramir nodded. "I am just nervous".

"I know," Aragorn assured him. "I am nervous as well. This is something important, both to us and to them. They are just as nervous as we are, because we decide over their fates. If we make a bad decision they are the ones that pay for it. Of course they are worried, and they do not trust us fully. We decide over to much for them to do that. Hence the insult."

He offered a comforting smile. "It is a natural thing."

Faramir shrugged. "I'll try my best not to be so paranoid," he promised with a wry smile.

"It is fine Faramir," Aragorn laughed lightly. "Now why do we not join Eomer? He told me he was thinking of taking a ride."

"Sounds like a sound idea to me." It would be nice to be away from the village for a while. Enjoy the fine weather and just relax. "I shall go to the stables and prepare the horses," he offered.

"Do that, and I shall tell Eomer and Telheart that they shall have company."

Faramir was examining the hoofs of his horse Forthsul and had therefore bent low when the men entered the stable. At first he did not really care about it. There was no reason it would concern him.

Then he heard the strange tongue again.

"Die Könige sind Trottel," a harsh voice whispered.

It was a clear insult as it would closely translate as 'the Kings are stupid.'

It was followed by another voice. "Die haben ja nicht alle tasten im shrank."

'The Kings are clearly insane.' There was no mistaking that meaning. They were specifically insulting the Kings. What he really did not understand was why. What had the Kings done to deserve an insult like that?

The men left the stable, and he had not really heard anything that seemed worse than before. So what difference would it make? All Aragorn and Eomer would do was state that it was really not a strange thing that the villagers did not fully trust them.

Furthermore, if he told them it would only make him seem paranoid, and then both of them would think his judgement clouded by suspicions. That would not benefit neither of them. He thought briefly about the fact that it might be a bad decision not to inform them, but for the moment it seemed like a worse decision to actually tell them. It was after all a mere few minutes ago that he had been told he was too suspicious.

When the others came he had already tacked all the horses and was waiting outside. He did not say anything at all to them about what he had heard in the stables.

They thought that he was unusually silent, but as he was quiet by nature they did not think much about it. Aragorn merely thought that he had been unable to let go of the insult as of yet. He thought that they should probably address that problem at a later time. If he could not see the Councillors harsh comments as the pathetic insults they were, and instead took them seriously he would suffer much needlessly. A glance at Eomer told him that he had noticed it as well.

Eomer shook his head saying that this was not the time. They had after all just told him that it was a paranoid trait to react so much to it. Eomer feared that Faramir would think they were displeased with him if they brought it up again so soon.

Faramir was turning the problem over and over in his mind. The others had clearly forgotten about it, it did not trouble them at all, and he could not think of anything he could do at all.

In the village two men huddled together. They again used the strange tongue as they had no wish to be understood.

"_He heard us," _one of them said_. "And he understood at least some of it."_

"_We can not take the chance," _the leader, an unshaven man said_. "Get rid of him, and I will not mind if you do it painfully. The King and his pitiful Steward have no right to decide over us, and they shall learn so."_

"_I know just what to do," _the first one grinned._ "We were fine before they decided to interfere. I would gladly do away with the Rohan fool as well."_

"_Are you stupid?" _the leader hissed._ "We can not deal with an army. The Steward has to go because he has heard us, and he would deny us what we want. If we go after the King's we are done for. Remember that, if they just suspect that we have done anything they will have their armies here."_

"_I know," _the man nodded._ "The deal must go through." _He sneaked away.

* * *

This is the temporary end, as you might guess by now this is not the temporary end of this tale, it is more of a chapter ending. The second part of this will follow next week, but then there shall be another chapter as well. This time we made it into three chapters, we hope that you will enjoy them.

* * *

Silver Sniper: Is there something such as perfect working order with computers? I count as computer geek, and yet I am still to find the fully functional computer that has no errors. I hope yours works better now though, and that you enjoyed this latest addition to our tale.

Lindahoyland: Thank you, I am as always glad you liked it. We are doing more angst here, but I hope that you shall at least get to smile as we tried to add in some fun bits as well.

Horsiegurl: Have no fear, there shall be more of Faramir in Rohan, and we hope that it shall be even more fun that this last one was.

Katieelessar: Glad that you find our supply of curses plentiful, hopefully we shall be able to give you even more of them. Interesting vote, that will make one more for Denethor, also, I am sorry, but we can not add to many votes to the original one. Although I would say that Eowyn is Faramir's real wife. I must also ask, no vote for the brothers? We would very much like more votes.

Still, we thank you and hope that you enjoyed this.

Here I would like to thank everyone who reads my works, thank you.

* * *

Here it must also be said that in the tale "A Two Colour Chain Mail," we started the vote based on the fact that Sean Bean and David Wenham made the perfect image of two brothers. We also got plenty of agreement on that.

So here it is, if you agree with us and think that they should be real brothers. Say so in your review. It shall be your vote. On my authors page, in the bio I shall keep score. When the score reaches 100, they shall be declared official brothers. Then on my authors page shall be an official declaration written by Elenhin and Celebrion.

Then the truth can not be denied, they shall be brothers.


	23. Die Könige sind Dummköpfe, part two

Author's Note: This is a bit of a joke that I wrote with the help of a friend. We thought that Faramir was skilled at different languages, and wondered just what languages he could speak.

Trying to think of as many as possible, and writing a story on each. Some languages will be from Lord of the Ring, some will not, but we will name them and where they come from. So Have no fear.

This particularly one is German, and this time we have opted for some more serious and deep thoughts in the tale. Meaning that there will be some angst in there as well. We are doing that with Earendil Eldar in mind for the comment of, "_And to think... you haven't even exacted any torture on the poor dear._" Well, now we have. It was only a matter of time before that happened. I hope that you shall enjoy what we did though.

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Ring, I only borrow parts of it and shall return them as soon as I am done. Completely undamaged, as I am certain it will be impossible to see where we glued the pieces back together.

Now, since the annoying temporary ending is no more, (at least for the moment,) here follows part two. There is also a part three witch comes next week.

* * *

Die Könige sind Dummköpfe, part two

When they came back from the ride it was near supper time. Something that Aragorn, Eomer and Telheart were grateful for. They were all rather hungry. As before they ate in the village hall, a large building where the whole village gathered at times. For the moment it was them and some other representatives. They did not sit at the long table, instead one of the smaller ones had been set, and there was plenty of food.

The others ate gladly and several rounds of ale were served. Yet Faramir did not eat much. He had no real appetite as he was still running things over in his mind.

"Relax and enjoy yourself." Aragorn whispered quietly to him as he noticed that the young man was merely pushing the food around on his plate.

Faramir nodded and took a draught of his ale. Yet he could not force any more of the food down. To him it tasted foul and wooden in his mouth. Some taste that clung to his tongue and would not be washed away with the ale.

He felt much relief when the meal was over and they left the table. Not feeling up to hours of pleasant conversation he excused himself early and sought his bed.

Aragorn watched his back as he headed towards the inn where they had been given rooms.

"He seemed a bit distant this eve," Eomer noted quietly. "Do you think that something is wrong?"

Aragorn stroked his chin thoughtfully. "I would guess that he has worried himself to a headache. He is very concerned about everything and worries overly much."

"Denethor was harsh on him, or so Eowyn tells me." Eomer also looked as Faramir disappeared behind a corner. "We both know how he fears scorn and harsh words. It might be that he is not really fit for these things." He meant nothing ill with his words and Aragorn knew it.

"He is a very skilled Steward, he only needs assurance that his friends do not judge him."

Eomer nodded. "At first I doubted that he was worthy of my sister, but now I think he is of a great worth. He just can not see it himself."

"If he is suffering a headache and is still awake when I return I shall brew him a tea," Aragorn decided. Faramir had inherited the gift, or curse, of experiencing visions. A Númenorian trait that varied in how it worked. Faramir might fall into a swoon from it at times, yet he would sometimes act as if awake, merely as if he was wandering in a dream. Because of the visions he was also prone to headaches whenever stressed or worried.

Aragorn had learnt about this from Boromir while the Fellowship walked, and he knew about the dream that had sent Boromir to seek council from the Elves.

Eomer nodded in agreement and then he and Aragorn turned back to their host as they wanted to avoid seeming rude.

When Aragorn returned Faramir was curled up on the bed. Since the inn only had a limited amount of rooms they shared two double rooms that had two beds in each room. It had been natural for Aragorn and Faramir to share even if some thought the two Kings should have been together in the best one.

Faramir had undressed to leggings and shirt but had not pulled a blanket over himself.

"Headache?" Aragorn asked quietly as he laid a hand on his arm, gently alerting him to the fact that he was not alone anymore.

Faramir nodded, it had grown on him while he walked back to the inn. The hearth was cold but Aragorn soon had a small fire going, brewing a dose of a tea that should deal with the headache and allow him to sleep.

Faramir sat up and drained the cup he was offered, knowing from experience that Aragorn's brews rarely tasted too foul, and that they helped. He was right, it was slightly bitter in the taste, but not so bad he could not drink it.

"Thank you." He handed back the empty cup.

"Sleep now." Aragorn took a blanket and draped over him. He felt sympathy for him, he did not suffer regular headaches himself, but he knew how awful any headache was.

Faramir closed his eyes and snuggled down into the blanket, falling almost instantly asleep.

He awoke in the middle of the night, feeling wretched. His head pounded with such force he was afraid his skull would crack open. He had stomach spasms and it hurt so badly he could not even cry out. Curling up into a tight ball he waited for it to pass. His body was covered in cold sweat and he felt incredibly hot, yet he shivered at the same time.

Even in his hazy state he knew that he was ill, he had not been ill often since he grew into adulthood. Yet he was most definitely feverish now, and the pain in his stomach suggested that it was something more serious than an ordinary cold with the following fever.

It was bad enough that he almost wanted to wake Aragorn, knowing that Aragorn could most likely make him some brew that would make him feel better, but he did not want to wake him. He would feel so embarrassed. He curled up tighter and pressed his hands to his stomach. That was the worst part of it, the shivering and the feeling hot and stifled at the same time was unpleasant but not as bad.

Eventually he was exhausted enough to fall asleep again, even if it was not a restful sleep. He tossed and turned and felt very uncomfortable.

When Aragorn woke up he could hear stifled groans from the other bed. Turning his head he saw Faramir entangled in the blanket, twisting and groaning even though he was still asleep. Concerned, he climbed out of his own bed and felt Faramir's forehead. He was hot, too hot, and there was a sheen of sweat on his face. His whole body was covered in cold sweat.

Aragorn moved to untangle the blanket first, hoping he would be more comfortable when his limbs was free. Faramir opened his eyes when he felt the extended touch.

"Aragorn," he mumbled. He really felt wretched.

"Faramir." Aragorn sat down on the mattress and brushed away the strands of hair that clung to his wet forehead. "You have a fever, is something else wrong?"

"Not sure, feel pretty bad." He felt a bit drowsy, what he wanted most was to sleep deeply so that all the pain would go away. "Bad headache."

"I shall make you a brew for that, and something for the fever," Aragorn said soothingly. "I don't know what it is you have caught though." It had to be some strain of fever, but who had he caught it from?

"Thanks." Faramir rubbed a hand across his forehead. "Feel rather stupid to get sick."

"We don't tend to have a lot to say about those things," Aragorn soothed him. "It is of no matter." He went to get his pack and began looking through his supply of healing herbs. He knew what to make for the fever and the headache, but for some reason he did not think it was a simple illness.

While the herbs steeped in hot water he managed to get some honey from the kitchen to sweeten the taste with.

When he returned, Eomer was leaving the room he and Telheart shared.

"Faramir has taken ill of some kind." Aragorn said quietly.

Eomer nodded as he took in the news. "That would explain why he seemed to act so odd yesterday eve," he said. "He was probably getting sick even then. How is he?" he added.

"Feverish, and he has a headache. He has not even tried to get up yet so he must be feeling pretty bad," Aragorn said as he opened the door.

Faramir lay with his eyes closed and was breathing heavily. He did not react to the fact that he was not alone anymore. In fact he did not seem to react at all. Not until Aragorn laid a hand against his forehead. Then he opened his eyes.

Eomer stood of to the side. Eyeing him cautiously. He was a bit worried that the illness could be catching as there was no telling how far it might spread if that was the case. It was also disconcerting to see how far it had developed in such a short time. Faramir had not looked to be truly ill the evening before. He hoped that Aragorn with his vast knowledge of herbs could cure him, and that Faramir would not suffer much.

Aragorn was trying to determine just what the symptoms he had were. He did not recognise this as any particularly illness and it was disconcerting to say the least. He stirred some of the honey in his brew and handed Eomer the clay mug.

"Give him this." He said. "And carefully, it is rather hot." He searched through his pack after a salve that should ease his breathing when it was rubbed onto his chest. "When was it you began to feel ill, Faramir?" He asked. "The exact time as close as you can tell it."

"When we ate." He mumbled absently. "Was not very hungry, thought everything tasted funny. Then I started to feel rather bad and when I came back here I had an headache."

"Could some of the food have been bad?" Eomer asked as he helped Faramir drink from the mug again.

"Then he would not be the only one ill." Aragorn shook his head. "And if anyone else had taken ill we would have heard something about it by now." He shook his head." Yet I cannot understand it. I have never seen an illness act this way before. And for it to have come so quickly." He frowned as he paused in his ministrations. The salve he was rubbing on Faramir's chest should have eased his breathing. So why was he breathing even more heavily now, almost as if he was in more pain.

He looked up to see that Eomer was having problems with making him drink the brew. Faramir kept trying to twist away from the mug.

"Faramir, you must drink that." Aragorn said softly. "It will help with your headache. I used honey for the taste so it should not be to bad."

"It burns." Faramir groaned and he sounded pitiful Eomer thought.

"Let it cool some Eomer." Aragorn decided. Yet even after he had checked the temperature Faramir complained that it burnt. That was when Aragorn discovered the tiny blisters around his mouth. Whenever he brushed against them Faramir groaned with pain.

"Faramir, did everything of the food taste funny yesterday eve, or did it start tasting funny while you ate?" He asked.

"Think it tasted fine first, but it started tasting bad rather quickly." In some ways he felt better now that Aragorn was near, but in some way he also felt worse. Now Aragorn was stroking his throat in a way that was really unpleasant, enough so that he near changed his mind about feeling better when Aragorn was near.

"Open your mouth Faramir, I want to look at your throat." Aragorn said carefully. He was aware of the fact that Faramir probably would not like it.

He did not and it took some gentle coaxing to get him to open his mouth. Aragorn clenched his teeth shut. Faramir had a few blistered sores on his tongue and on the inside of his cheeks. His throat looked rather irritated.

"This is no mere fever." He said in a low voice. Low enough that Eomer heard but not Faramir. "It's poison of some sort."

"What!" Eomer reached for the sword that he was not wearing and cursed the fact that it was not at his belt.

"Some kind of poison." Aragorn said, trying not to show all the anger he felt. "Probably got it when we ate. I am beginning to think he was not paranoid, Eomer. If he has been poisoned, we can be sure that someone here does not like us."

Eomer looked rather grim and dangerous.

"Now that I know what it is I can take care of it." Aragorn went on. "But if they find out he is well again before we find out who did it. He will be in danger."

"I say we get him well again." Eomer stated. "Then we get him out of here and deal with the rest."

"If who ever did it finds out that we know it is poison they will kill him outright." Aragorn sated. "We must pretend that we think it is a mere illness, or we will put him at risk."

Eomer nodded solemnly, was there a more cowardly thing than poison? Those who knew Eomer knew that for the moment he wanted nothing more than to teach the one's who had poisoned his friend a lesson, with his sword. Those who did not know him well enough to know this were at risk of finding it out. The fact that they did not yet know Eomer well enough, was probably the only reason they had dared to use poison. Anyone who knew how Eomer was likely to use his sword would have refrained from such an cowardly act.

"So we tell them that he has fallen ill, and that we do not think he shall make it." Eomer stated. "That should satisfy them. If they find out you can cure him they would come after him again."

Aragorn nodded. "We need to find out why, and we need some help." He grinned slightly as he thought of a plan. "They would not allow us to send for help." He stated. "But if we claim to think that Faramir is dying, then we could say that we send Telheart after Eowyn. They would not have any reason not to believe us."

"He could go and bring back a rather large troop of men." Eomer nodded. "We should be able to have them here in little more than a week."

"I do not know how fast the poison is supposed to work." Aragorn noted. "But that should not alert them." He rummaged around in his pack after the right herbs to counter the poison. Faramir was curled up again, and with the blisters making it painful he would not like to take any medication. "They will know that we are trying to cure him, and we will tell them that he is doing poorly. He must never be alone Eomer, never. We shall have to take turns at watching over him, and we must take care to always be armed."

Aragorn threw some herbs in a pot of water. "That will not be ready in a few more hours, I shall go and inform our hosts about our Steward's condition.

* * *

Another temporary ending here, I apologize if it is not the best place for a chapter break, but there was no better one available. Luckily this is only a temporary inconvenience, as next week the last chapter shall be posted. The last of this particularly one that is. Until then, fare you all well.

* * *

Silver Sniper: Glad you liked the plot line, I was a bit nervous since it was the first time we made this one so serious and with angst in it. So you can imagine that I am glad it turned out well and that you liked it. The language is German, I got the phrases from a friend who have German relatives. I know that it is hard to recognize every language, so we do name them in the authors note. If you do not recognize it, look there, it should be there.

Your computer sounds like mine, I had to reinstall windows just to be able to boot it, I can be out on the internet with it now, but I can not open a word document, and it keeps going, 'C: error, information may be lost, please press any button to continue.' I am beginning to think that it just wants attention.

ForeverFaramir: Yeah, the background music is almost creepy at times. It is also almost so that Celebrion and me thinks that it is creepy. Sure, it is Faramir and he is the greatest, but how does he manages to know all of those languages. You must admit that it is quite impressive.

Horsiegurl: Yes, we thought that we should make an attempt at something more serious, and we were not sure how it would turn out, so we are very happy that you liked it. I can admit that I was fairly nervous to see what the response to it would be. So thank you again for your kind support, it means very much to us.

Lindahoyland: I had no idea that you knew German, mine is very limited, I can understand more than I can speak though. I used to watch some movies that had been dubbed into German, and you sort of learn to understand it then. It is interesting though, we are getting reviews in the languages we have used every now and again. That is interesting.

Also, I think that I am frightened here, your 'new story where Faramir really will suffer.' What did he do the last time? If that was not suffering, then we are not writing about languages.

Just had to tease you, I can't not wait to read what you are up to.

Vicky23: Thank you, we always love to see a new review. Also, thank you for correcting us, we do our best, but it sometimes are not enough. I got the German from a friend of mine who has German relatives, I shall have to tease him for not being able to spell it better. There might be more errors, and if there are we are sorry for them.

For the moment we have all the German we need since this tale is finished and just waiting to be posted. We will however be sure to keep you in mind if we decide to do more German, and since we would then have a source that would be guaranteed to be correct, that is more than likely.

Thank you again.

Shireling: Thank you, I must say again that it means a lot to me to have you reading this, and even more to have you actually like it. Yes, Faramir does tend to get caught in the middle a whole lot, and he always wants to spare everyone else. Meaning is the one who winds up suffering because he tried to make it easier for someone else. Fear not though, he has Aragorn and Eomer with him, and they are taking well care of him.

Legolas's Girl 9: Well, actually since I am the one writing this I can, but it would be a rather stupid thing to do since we intend to write a whole lot more of this. If we killed him we would have to bring him back in some way, and that would just be to much work. ;) Fear not, we like Faramir to much to do something like that. We have not harmed him more than that he shall be like new again after some glue and a hug or two. Feel free to help with the hugging part whenever you want and all shall be well again.

Steelelf: Yes, the previous chapter did turn out rather well. We hope that you shall like this as well though. Hm, you really sounded stressed, must be chaotic, I hope that you have gotten at least some time to take it ease now.

Raksha The Demon: I always try not to put in to many mean cliff hangers, but sometimes it can not be avoided. We write these things as a whole story, and then if they becomes to long we divide them into chapters as we post them, and it is sometimes hard to find a good place for the break. We do our best thought.

Also yes, it was German. We thought that we would try that as we had not done it yet. I hope that you found it interesting.

* * *

Here I would like to thank everyone who reads my works, thank you.

Here it must also be said that in the tale "A Two Colour Chain Mail," we started the vote

based on the fact that Sean Bean and David Wenham made the perfect image of two brothers. We also got plenty of agreement on that.

So here it is, if you agree with us and think that they should be real brothers. Say so in your review. It shall be your vote. On my authors page, in the bio I shall keep score.

When the score reaches 100, they shall be declared official brothers. Then on my authors page shall be an official declaration written by Elenhin and Celebrion.

Then the truth can not be denied, they shall be brothers.


	24. Die Könige sind Dummköpfe, part three

Author's Note: This is a bit of a joke that I wrote with the help of a friend. We thought that Faramir was skilled at different languages, and wondered just what languages he could speak.

Trying to think of as many as possible, and writing a story on each. Some languages will be from Lord of the Ring, some will not, but we will name them and where they come from. So Have no fear.

This particularly one is German, and this time we have opted for some more serious and deep thoughts in the tale. Meaning that there will be some angst in there as well. We are doing that with Earendil Eldar in mind for the comment of, "_And to think... you haven't even exacted any torture on the poor dear._" Well, now we have. It was only a matter of time before that happened. I hope that you shall enjoy what we did though.

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Ring, I only borrow parts of it and shall return them as soon as I am done. Completely undamaged, as I am certain it will be impossible to see where we glued the pieces back together.

Now, since the annoying temporary ending is no more, (at least for the moment,) here follows part three. The final part of this particularly tale.

* * *

Die Könige sind Dummköpfe, part three 

Aragorn sought them out and informed them that they would have to postpone the talks because his Steward had taken ill. He also assured them that it did not appear to be contagious, and that they were caring for him as best they were able to, but that it looked rather bad.

They were very polite and understanding, and offered their aid if there were anything they could do to help.

Aragorn told them that they were sending for Eowyn as it appeared to be rather serious. Since they would rather have her come and see Faramir well again, then to have Faramir pass on without having her near.

A few hours later Telheart left with the command to bring soldiers. Aragorn fed Faramir the new brew, and it allowed him to sleep peacefully. A few of the blisters around his mouth had burst, and the fluid that came from them irritated his skin so that every brushing touch was painful. Hoping it would do some good Aragorn spread a salve on them. In the meantime Eomer left to look after the horses. He wanted to make sure that they were well cared for.

He doubted the horses were in any danger, partially because there was no reason for anyone to harm them, and partially because a horse from Rohan did not allow anyone to get close enough to harm it. They were trained to fight, and a horse could easily kill.

He despised those who were such cowards that they attacked through poison, and would gladly make them suffer a painful death. Dying by the hoofs of a horse was almost too good for them.

He returned to find Aragorn going through his herbs again, while muttering to himself. "I wish I knew exactly what it was they have given him." He muttered loud enough for Eomer to hear. "It would be so much easier if I knew what it is"

"You can't tell from the symptoms?" Eomer asked. Faramir was still asleep, lying on his side and tightly curled up.

"He is showing at least two different sets of symptoms." Aragorn shrugged. "My guess is that they have used some naturally poisonous herbs, and combined two different sorts for it to be more fatal. Whatever it was it was made so that he would suffer first."

Eomer clenched his fists. He would gladly tear them apart himself for what they had done to his friend.

"I intend to keep him asleep for as much as possible." Aragorn went on. "That is really the best I can do for him."

They took turns in keeping vigil. Using the other bed in the room to sleep, and Aragorn prepared the brews. Faramir was slowly getting better, even if he was in pain he was more aware. Enough so to complain about the foul taste on some of the brews Aragorn made for him.

Nothing else could have made Aragorn feel more relieved. The complaining meant that he was recovering.

"No more of that, please." He begged, so weak that Aragorn had to support him. Aragorn was sitting in the bed and held his friend against him so that Faramir's head rested on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry Faramir, but you need more of it." Aragorn soothed. Eomer had gone to the stable to care for the horses. He exercised them daily because it was not good for them to stand in the stable for to long. It also allowed him to leave the village and look for the aid of the soldiers they had sent for. When they came Eomer would find them, and no one believed he was doing aught else than exercise their mounts. The bond between the Rohan men and their horses was well known.

"Horrible." Faramir mumbled. The fever was not fully gone even if it was not making him feel like he was in the middle of a fire pit. The worse thing was the blisters around his mouth. Whenever one burst the fluid that spilled from it turned into a new blister, and they were painful.

"I know, but I can not help it Faramir." Aragorn soothed. "They think you are too ill to notice, I cannot get anything to sweeten it with without putting you at danger."

He would have liked to get some honey to sweeten his brew with, and some other fresh herbs to make a salve out of, the one he now used did little good against the blisters.

"The soldiers will be here soon Faramir, and then we can get you back home to Minas Tirith." He smiled at him. "Then you will have Eowyn to care for you."

"To scold me you mean." Faramir dutifully drank the rest of the brew. Eowyn would give him the rough side of her tongue for certain. The worse condition he was in when she did it, the worse it would be, and then would follow the time when she did not allow him to do anything for himself, but urged him to seek his bed and rest instead.

"She will not scold you, though I dare say she will cosset you to the point of smothering." Aragorn smiled and put the empty mug aside. "No, it will be me and Eomer she will be lecturing. Had we listened to you this would not have happened."

"I did not tell you of what I over heard in the stable." Faramir mumbled. "I should have."

"As if Eomer and I listened. No Faramir, we were fools and you got hurt, I am sorry." He gently eased him down.

"Least they did not harm you my Lord, if they had harmed you I would have failed. I swore an oath." Faramir sighed as he grasped his friends hand. "Me before you, my Lord."

"I would keep you safe from harm my friend, no matter what oath you have sworn, I would not lose you." Aragorn squeezed his hand gently. "We never shall agree on that one." He said with a smile. "Both of us shall always argue that it is our duty to keep the other safe."

Faramir smiled as well, it was a discussion in which neither of them would ever win over the other.

"You need to rest now." Aragorn said softly. "Shall I read to you some? You would do well to sleep, but I do understand if you have tired of sleeping."

"So you shall read and then I shall have fallen asleep within a dozen pages." Faramir mused. "You shall have your wish either way, but I would not mind it if you read."

When Eomer returned Aragorn had closed the book and Faramir was sleeping, curled up on his side as he seemed to prefer.

"No sign of them yet." Eomer reported. "But they can not be far away now. Oh, and our dear hosts expressed their deepest regrets that your faithful Steward was not faring any better." His voice was thick with disgust as he uttered the last words. "They made sure I knew that they hoped that he would recover."

"He is doing much better." Aragorn assured him. "He was coherent enough for a short conversation, and then he stayed awake for all of two dozen pages."

"Much better then." Eomer broke into a grin. "He shall be all but well when them flea ridden excuses for soldiers finally see fit to drag themselves here."

Aragorn nodded and sank down on the other bed. He was tired as he had not gotten much sleep the last few days. He had been afraid that he would be asleep and miss the signs if Faramir's condition should worsen. Now he did not need to fear that anymore and so he could sleep a little himself. He stretched out lazily and was only aware of Eomer spreading a blanket over him before he fell asleep.

Faramir awoke slowly, when most of the fever was gone there were times when the pain fell over him like waves. Not so bad that he could not stand it, but it made him feel nauseous. He could not sleep then. It felt as if he was spinning so fast he thought he would get sick, and there was nothing solid to hold on to. Nothing to stop the spinning.

Then he felt the touch. Something that held him in spite of the spinning, and Eomer's soft voice that came to him through it. An assurance that he was not alone that made it all bearable. Unconsciously he inched closer to that touch.

Eomer had heard the faint whimper and had placed a hand on Faramir's arm in a hope to comfort him. When Faramir clung to his hand Eomer sat down beside him and draped his other arm over his friend's back. He knew how comforting the mere presence of a friend could be to an injured or ill person, and he knew that it was important that they knew of the presence.

Faramir in this hazed state would not know unless he felt it, and so Eomer made sure he knew it. He moved his hand in slow circles on his back, always renewing the contact so that Faramir knew he was there, and it was not just a blanket that laid against his back.

Neither did he stop as soon as Faramir was asleep again, but he continued for some time after that.

When Faramir slowly awoke there was a comforting sound in the room, comforting by its familiarity. The sound of a honing stone against the edge of a sword. Eomer sat by the window and was busy putting a new edge on his blade. It was as if he had felt Faramir's eyes on him for he smiled even as he finished the touch.

"How do you fare Faramir?" He asked quietly.

Faramir felt too weak to check, but he heard a soft snoring now that there no longer was the honing stone against edge, so he would guess that Aragorn was asleep.

"Better." His voice croaked because his throat was dry. "Water?" Some could water would feel so good in his sore throat.

Eomer nodded and filled a goblet from the pitcher. Holding Faramir and helping him to drink, being as careful of the blisters as he could. Even so one burst and Eomer dipped a rag in some of the water to try to clean away the fluid. Faramir clenched his teeth and tried not to groan at the burning sensation from it. Eomer was as gentle as he could.

"Rest now and enjoy the respite." Eomer said grinning. "I've no doubt that the first thing Aragorn will do when he is awake is concoct some foul brew to pour down your throat, and there will be naught I can do to stop him.

Faramir smiled at his words, he enjoyed the humour that distracted him from the actual situation. As long as Eomer would seek to amuse him all would be well.

Now Eomer had picked up his honing stone again and began working even as he sat on the edge of the bed, the better to keep Faramir company. Now Faramir saw that it was not Eomer's blade he was sharpening, it was his own. The one that Eomer had given him as a wedding gift.

"I did not think I had allowed it to go dull." He murmured. He would not want Eomer to feel offended that he had neglected the sword.

"You have not." Eomer assured him. "You care for the blade very well, but I have little to do and no patience to sit idle." He beamed a wide grin that split his face. "I've sharpened my own sword and dagger so much that they have a better edge than my razor. So I stole your sword before I wore mine down. I hope that it has not offended you." He added softly.

Soldiers rarely touched one another's blade without permission. The sword was something private that the soldier's life would depend on, and so no one would pick up another one's sword without the owner's permission.

"No, you have my leave to take up my sword any time you want." Faramir assured him.

"In a little time I shall have to take your dagger instead." Eomer grinned at him. "Then I fear that I will not really have anything left but Aragorn's sword. And I am not sure that I am allowed to even take up that one."

"Boromir would have had the perfect solution." Faramir mumbled, he still missed his brother so much. "He would have gone out and slain an Orc. Than he would have complained for an hour how the vile thing dulled his edge and how he would have to sharpen the sword all over again, and what a waste of time it was. He would be grinning like a fool the whole time he did it."

"I'm afraid that there are no Orcs here." Eomer chuckled. "But it does have a sound reasoning to it."

"Cleave a stone then, it should dull the edge." Faramir stated. From the other bed they heard a chuckle as Aragorn was now awake.

"Or I could use it on his thick skull." Eomer decided. "Hold him long enough so that you can get away from those vile brews he takes such a delight in forcing into you."

"One flaw in the plan Eomer." Aragorn stated as he moved over. "Your skull is even thicker." He rapped his knuckles across Eomer's head. "Now get out there and see if our reinforcement have come yet while I care for this one." He too grinned. "I do not need to have a fool around who is no good for anything but getting in my way."

"I will go and scout." Eomer said. "T'is a shame the fool decided to go for Gondor's soldiers, Rohan warriors would have been here long since." He slid Faramir's sword back into its scabbard.

This time as he rode away from the village he did spot the soldiers. They had already decided what course of action to take.

He would get back to Aragorn so that they were both there to protect Faramir if there should be need for it. Then they would have the soldiers march right in, overwhelm the villagers by a show of strength. They would not dare to do much when suddenly a vast number of soldiers crowded the streets.

He gave them their instructions, amused to see the fact that they were from Rohan and Gondor each, and then he headed back to prepare Aragorn.

They both waited with drawn swords ready, but there was no fight. Not one of the villagers had the courage to go against the soldiers. They soon had confessed to everything. Who had come up with the plot, who had been responsible for the poisoning. Aragorn commanded them to be placed under lock until they could be put to trail for their crimes.

With written copies of their own statements there was no question of their guilt and innocence.

Aragorn and Eomer left a small number of soldiers as they left. They would see Faramir safely home and then they would return themselves to deal out the justice. Although he was still weak Faramir recovered enough during the journey to hold himself upon his horse for the last stretch of the journey. Aragorn would have preferred if he had not, but he really did sympathise with his Steward and friend.

Eowyn would not be happy to have her husband come back so pale and weak, she would also make certain that he knew that, and would not allow him to do much of anything anytime soon. Faramir would be told that he should retire to bed to rest for a long time, and the weaker he appeared when he returned the longer it would be before Eowyn stopped watching him like a hawk whenever he sought to do anything at all.

Had he returned in a wagon she would not allow him out of bed for near a month. So Aragorn kept a close eye on him, and then allowed him to ride. He was not looking forward to the tongue-lashing Eowyn would give him and Eomer as soon as she saw her husband.

Eomer was beginning to look like a frightened animal for the same reason.

"There is no need for you to follow any longer." Faramir said slowly to his King and his brother-in-law. "She shan't be able to scold you if you do not, and she shall wait some time before scolding me."

"I intend to try and persuade her from scolding you at all." Aragorn stated. "It was none of it your fault and most of it ours. I would hope to make her see that if naught else."

"Can we please just make sure she is unarmed before we take all of the blame." Eomer pleaded. "I do not fear the sharpness of her tongue half as much as I fear the sharpness of her blade. She shan't be able to inflict as much harm upon us with bare hands either."

"She should be more interested in getting Faramir to bed than to see what damage she can inflict upon us." Aragorn did his best to sound confident. "At least at first, and hopefully we can explain while she has her hands full of him."

"Eowyn never have her hands too full to punch you." Eomer groaned.

As it played out Eowyn was not all that violent. Faramir was tucked into bed before he had the slightest chance to object it, and Eomer and Aragorn was only to happy to help in the hopes that it would allow her to stay calm.

She did tell them a few choice words, but she did listen to what they said, and then claimed that there was not much else that they could have done. She was in fact so reasonable that Eomer first feared that she had been ill as well, but then he decided that she had just missed her husband to much to be to angry with them when she had him back again.

The hard edge in her voice did however not bode well for the man that had slipped the poison in Faramir's food. Aragorn decided that hanging would not be too cruel a punishment for him as it would be the only way to keep him safe from Eowyn, and allowing her near them would be too cruel.

He and Eomer were soon back and ready to deal the punishments that had been justly decided.

The doomed men had only one thing to say as the sentence was publicly declared and not objected to by anyone.

"_Sheisse_."

As I have no suited temporality for this chapter you may insert a temporally ending rambling of your own choosing here. I temporally recommend choosing one from a previous chapter.

* * *

Pronounciation Guide by Celebrion: 

If you do not know the sound of a German accent you have not watched enough WW2 movies.

The last piece of insults in this chapter is literarilly translated "They don't have all the cups in the cupboard." Which is not interesting to anyone but me, but I thought it would be fun to mention. Oh, and the last word translates "Oh, shit." if there was anyone out there who didn't know. Amazing that most of the time, the first words we learn of a language are curses...unless you're learning at school in which case the first words are "My name is you know what to put here... What's you're name?"

I don't think it will be neccessary for me to make any greater efforts to break down the sounds of these phrases, other than a few guidelines.

German accents in English always comes from German having other sounds than English. Therefore accents can be used to try to pronounce it's motherlanguage.

The sound "ö" as in 'Dumbköpfe' is pronounced somewhat like the 'a' in 'a fool'.

Oh, and don't forget the grumbling 'r'. Try your worst Texan 'r'. Now move it further back into the throat and roll it out. Good! Now you're almost there...

Good luck and see you next week!

* * *

ForeverFaramir: Yes, they were cowards, that kind of men usually are. As it happened though, I already had the following chapter all written. So here it is, I hope that you enjoyed it. 

Horsiegurl: Thank you, I am very happy that you think so. Those kind words of yours makes it a pleasure to be posting this.

Legolas's Girl 9: The only end here is the chapter end, and as I can not write infinitely, I have to make those. However I am ever happy that you seem to be enjoying this.

Mysterious Jedi: I agree, a little angst is usually good, but I have to admit that I was uncertain if it would work in something like this, where we have mostly concentrated on plain and pure humour. It seems to have worked well though.

Yes, they were afraid to face an army, for they knew that they could not defeat one. They did however forget about one thing, an enraged Eomer and Aragorn is as bad as an army.

Lindahoyland: It is a pleasure to write it when Aragorn and Faramir cares for one another. Aragorn steps into the big brother role so well when Faramir no longer has Boromir, and even if Faramir always tries to look out for the King, he needs someone to act in the big brother role, someone he can look up to.

Yes, I saw movies that were dubbed into German to for that same reason, It gave me a good understanding of the language, even if I could not speak it to well.

I love every word of what I have been reading of your tale so far, and it is on my mind a lot when I do not read it. I am still trying to figure out what could have happened with their clothes. Nothing I come up with make sense.

I need an update before I go insane.

Silver Sniper: No I can not blame you for being eager, I would be a fool if I did. I do not think anyone takes to much trouble reading the note, I try to, and I always at least skim through them, but you are always more eager to get to the story, human nature I believe it is.

Yes, the fun thing about something like this, usually one shots with only a the same basic plot line, is that you can explore so many more options. Since we do not follow an exact time line we can explore any idea we get at any given time. That is a true pleasure, and we shall always have a temporary ending here for you.

Oh, and how did that test go?

Earendil Eldar: Well after we revealed it the poisoning part became rather obvious, but yes, there is no real reason to fear for him. At least not in this tale. I do not think I could write his death like that, and besides it would be stupid to kill Faramir while we have more chapters planned.

Oh, yes, Faramir suffers a lot everywhere. I think that many authors enjoys comforting him once they are done with the suffering part, and who can blame them. Faramir is such a lovable little sweetheart.

Shy-Shadow Reckless: Yes Faramir speaks German, and that is indeed something you have in common. Though I am sure that we could find even more things you have in common if we try. We shall just have to see in later chapters.

* * *

Here I would like to thank everyone who reads my works, thank you. 

Here it must also be said that in the tale "A Two Colour Chain Mail," we started the vote

based on the fact that Sean Bean and David Wenham made the perfect image of two brothers. We also got plenty of agreement on that.

So here it is, if you agree with us and think that they should be real brothers. Say so in your review. It shall be your vote. On my authors page, in the bio I shall keep score.

When the score reaches 100, they shall be declared official brothers. Then on my authors page shall be an official declaration written by Elenhin and Celebrion.

Then the truth can not be denied, they shall be brothers.


	25. Mir Makes no Mistake

Author's Note: This is a bit of a joke that I wrote with the help of a friend. We thought that Faramir was skilled at different languages, and wondered just what languages he could speak.

Trying to think of as many as possible, and writing a story on each. Some languages will be from Lord of the Ring, some will not, but we will name them and where they come from. So Have no fear.

This time there is more Gaelic. Me and Celebrion have come to the conclusion that Mir is a sort of miniature copy of Boromir with a few of Faramir's treats, such as his love for languages. This means that when he is displeased with someone he will tell them so in the style of Boromir, not necessary in a language you would expect.

Thanks to Forever Faramir for betaing, (she betad The Oath That You Took, too, but I forgot to say so in that one,) and to Forever Faramir's cousin AnneMarie for the Gaelic.

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Ring, I only borrow parts of it and shall return them as soon as I am done. Completely undamaged, as I am certain it will be impossible to see where we glued the pieces back together.

The Lord Barladro is my own character, and guesses about the translation of his name is still welcome.

* * *

Mir Makes no Mistake

Mir was again playing in a corner of Faramir's study, Eowyn no longer needed to rest as she had recovered fully from the birth of their youngest child. It was the infant that needed to be allowed her naps in quiet, and try as he might Mir was just not good at being quiet for very long. Faramir had taken his family to spend a few weeks in Minas Tirith as the King needed him close for some time.

To keep Mir's louder games from disturbing the youngest Faramir gladly took him with him to play in his study. From what he could gather there was a Princes being held prisoner by something somewhere in his study, and now an army of lead soldiers was being lined up as they were getting ready to rescue her.

Elboron had been instruction him again it seemed, for Mir was trying to place the soldiers into perfectly straight lines. Elboron tended to insist that everything was to be done properly, and the soldiers should stand in straight lines. No matter that they were about to be spread all over the study.

Mir was assigned to keep his toys in one corner off by the hearth, to keep the room from being completely littered with toys, still the soldiers seemed to move around a bit more. Faramir had no notion how as Mir never seemed to leave his assigned corner, yet the lead soldiers did so frequently.

He looked up to see the army beginning to move and frowned. Maybe he should talk with Mir about what things were not toys, because now he could see the captured princess. One of Finduella's dolls was acting as the princess. That was nothing strange, Mir and even Theod had borrowed them before for such purposes, and she did not mind.

On a table in Mir's play corner stood a statue maybe a foot in height. It was a likeness of one of the Kings of old that had been placed there, and that was the evil fiend that had apparently captured the princess. Seeing as how the princess was caught between the statue and the wall. Mir would be careful with it, there was not fear of that, and the solid stone sculpture was most unlikely to break even should it fall. There was however some councillors that might find it offensive to see it used as such.

However the army now had the table surrounded and it was only a matter of time before the princess was again safe. He decided to leave it, Mir was not aware of the fact that it might be improper, and there was no reason why the statue should take offence. In fact Faramir found it interesting to see how one of the great Kings from the legends was defeated by a mere three year old.

There, the soldiers had moved up the table legs and the King was just about to surrender. Faramir watched intently and that was when the door opened. He looked up to see Barladro, one of the Lords, and one that Faramir rather disliked. He did not approve of Faramir, and he made sure that Faramir knew of it.

He was pompous to say the least, he had not even bothered to knock before entering. He was upset because one of the documents that had been worked put between the King and his Steward was not in his favour. In fact it meant that he would have to surrender a slight bit of the wealth he had worked so hard for. It was not easy to get away with using such means as he had to achieve the wealth, and so he rather thought he should be allowed to keep it.

The Steward was bothersome in his opinion. It was most annoying how the man did not approve of suppressing farmers and those of the lower class. Therefore the Lord Barladro did not like the Steward, and he did his best to make certain that said Steward was aware of the situation. He had pointed it out on several occasions, and he intended to do so again now.

He would not go to the King as he was most to powerful to annoy, the Steward however, he believed, did not have the guts to stand up for himself. He might run of to seek the protection of the King, but there would be little he could do, and so Barladro was confident that he could tell the Steward was a pitiful man he was without interruptions.

"My Lord, what may I do for you?" Faramir said coldly, all to aware of what the Lord Barladro would probably be after. He would have enjoyed telling the man a few choice words, yet the office he held craved that he would be courteous. Even to scum like the present Lord, neither did he feel at ease around the Lord. He was one of those who still made Faramir doubt himself, and that meant that the Lord Barladro sometimes did get away with his more improper behaviour.

"I would like to have an explanation on this." The Lord slammed a paper down on the Stewards desk. "What is the meaning of this?" He demanded angrily. Intending to rule out the possibility that the Steward could defend himself.

"Only an incompetent would ever suggest something like this." He went on before Faramir would even have the chance to say anything, to bring him back into line or anything else. "Then again it hardly comes as an surprise to see it bearing your seal. You never knew how to handle important matters, ever the fool."

Outside the study another man stood. Aragorn had been on his way to Faramir's study to bring him some documents. He had heard what the Lord said and angry would not be adequate to describe his feeling on the matter.

Why could not that swine of a man leave his Steward alone. He was about to enter and bring the man to heal when another intervened.

"Do not speak like that to the Steward!" Mir no longer sounded happy, he sounded very angry and he had rounded up on the Lord Barladro. "Did not your mama teach to treat your betters with respect."

Faramir would have told Mir that he spoke out of turn, and would have apologized, but Aragorn entered in time to stop him. By all means, let Barladro hear the words he badly needed to be told, and not why from a three year old who just now proved what blood he came from. He obviously had inherited Denethor's and Boromir's ability for dressing down those who forgot their place.

Mir stood with his feet's planted firmly and chin sticking out, his small fists were clenched and held at his hips.

Barladro was more confused now than he could ever remember being before. Not only was there a small child half yelling angrily at him, but he did not understand a word of it.

"Ba chóir go mbeidh náire ort bheith chomh dabla sin. Ní bheidh aon suipéar agat le haghaidh bliain. Is duine fásta thú in ainm agus tá sé sin níos measa nuair a bhfuil tú chomh dána sin. Measaim, ní bheidh aon milseog agat riamh arís."

That was what the child was saying, however he was saying it in what could be recognized as Gaelic by anyone who knew the familiarity of the words, Faramir had been teaching him that, and for some reason Mir had decided that it was more fitting to tell the Lord of in that tongue. Then followed a stream of Rohiric insults that he would have had to have picked up from his mother.

To think that Faramir had taken the trouble to discourage him from using the word 'bollocks,' when he apparently knew so much worse things. That was when Faramir had first begun teaching him Gaelic, when he had overheard the child using the word bollocks, now he thought that it had been rather pointless.

The Lord Barladro collected himself and made to turn away from the child, having decided that there was no reason for him to listen to an angry child.

"You stand still until I say you can go or you shall not have any supper." Mir growled.

Oh, he would be the perfect commander Aragorn though, no soldier would ever disobey a command given in that voice. In fact the Lord was clearly debating whatever he dared turn away or not.

"I believe that the young Lord does have a point." Aragorn interrupted to make certain that the Lord did not leave. "It seems he have decided that due to your behaviour you should not be allowed any supper for a year, and no dessert ever again since it seems you behave yourself worse than a disobedient child. I am not far from agreeing with him, so unless you want me to rule according to his judgment you stay and listen to what he has to say." He turned to the young child. "Please continue now my Lord, you are handling this very well."

The Lord Barladro had flushed a bright scarlet, partly from anger over his treatment, and partly because the King was witnessing it. Was there anything more humiliating.

Faramir was embarrassed, but he hid it, blushing would do no good now, and since the King had silenced him there was really very little that he could do about it.

Since he now had the Kings permission to move on Mir were at it again, and some of the things he used in referring to the Lord Barladro made it very hard for him not to blush.

Mir made it painstakingly clear that Barladro had not behaved as he should have.

The eventually he was finished. He fixed the Lord with a glare. "Now you apologize." He commanded, and it was a command. A command as determined as any one Boromir had ever given his troops, and the Lord Barladro had not other option than to obey. He choked out an apology to Faramir.

Aragorn cleared his throat as the man was about to make his escape. "Oh, before you leave my Lord, because of your errant behaviour there should be some punishment. I would not see you at the evening meal milord, instead you shall have to seek your bed early, without having your supper." It was a pleasure to do that ruling. Besides, no man could say that he did not deserve it.

As soon as the man had left Faramir sank tiredly into his chair. "Mir, I beg you, do not do that ever again." He sighed.

"But he was naughty Papa." Mir defended himself. "He should not say so bad things."

"Your father was merely surprised." Aragorn told the child. "He needed to hear everything you said to him, but I think that your father would like to know about it before you dress some naughty Lord down. There are times when it would not be the best thing for you to do so."

"He was naughty." Mir stated.

"Mir, it is simply not proper to threaten councillors with no supper." Faramir sighed. "And when did you learn those insults you used?"

"Mama says those things all the time." Mir said cheerfully. "And he behaved like a baby."

"He did." Aragorn grinned. "And he shall be punished as one. Next time though you can tell me and I shall take care about it, then your father will not have to be so scared." He grinned at the child. Then he turned to Faramir laying the documents down on his desk. "I came to give you these. And I heard him, had not Mir been faster I would have had some choice words for him. He does not have any right to speak to you like that."

Faramir nodded tiredly, it had been a shock to see Mir in action and he felt weary now that it was over.

"I shall take care of the documents, milord." He said. He would most rather forget about the rest of it. He would most rather forget about what Mir had said.

"Then I shall see you at the evening meal." The King smiled. "For now I would suggest something. Take a break Faramir, go to the library and find yourself some nice book, you look like you could use something to distract you, I am more than ready to admit that our young Lord here startled me as well. It appears he have much of his uncle in him." He picked Mir up and held him in his arms. "What say you my little Lord, shall you come with me to my study so that your father can get something nice to read for some time. You can bring your toys and play there."

With a delightful squeal Mir leapt down and gathered up the soldiers so that he could follow the King. He thrust them down into their leather bag. The Princess still waiting for rescue was forgotten and thus still in the clutches of the King. Then Mir coaxed Aragorn to carry him as they left together.

Faramir slumped in his chair. That was a scare to find his son dressing down a Lord for errant behaviour. He would have to assure that Mir did not do that again. The Lord Barladro was not one to take kindly to it, and Faramir did not want that man to be fuming against his son. He did not trust him.

Mir was delighted, he had never played in the Kings study before, so the first few moments were set aside for exploring, once he had obtained the King's permission that was. He was not about to behave himself so badly himself. He was peeking into a cabinet when he heard the King mutter something.

Aragorn looked up at the child. "Mir, there should be a bottle of ink in there, could you please bring it here. I was certain I had ink left and yet the ink well is dry again. I swear that there is something going on here, for it is ever dry when I need to write something."

Mir brought out the ink carefully, holding the bottle with both hands and walking slowly.

"Where does it go then?" He asked while peering at the inkwell. His father never seemed to have that problem.

"I can not even begin to guess that." Aragorn filled the inkwell up again. "There, I would appreciate it if you could put it back again." He was amused to watch how gentle the lad handled the bottle. He had not doubt learned from his father to be careful with the ink.

"Can ink disappear?" Mir was now standing beside the desk and looking up at Aragorn.

"It would seem that it can." Aragorn chuckled as the child climbed up to get a closer look at the ink well, peering at it from every angle. Then suddenly he burst out into a fit of giggling.

"Now it can't disappear." He beamed at Aragorn.

Aragorn looked, there in a perfect square around the ink well stood four lead soldiers keeping vigil. A sentry for the ink well. They had been placed with perfect precision and facing different directions. They would spot whoever tried to get close. The child truly had a head for military matters.

"I thank you Mir, if you can spare the men for sentry I would be most grateful to have them there as guards."

"I can spare them." Mir declared happily. "I have plenty more, and I do not have anyone to fight with right now, so it really does not matter." He slid down to the floor and headed of to the corner. "Papa would not want me to disturb you so I shall play now." He declared.

Aragorn chuckled quietly to himself. That child was one of a kind, just as his uncle Boromir had been. Mayhap they had not broken the mould after Boromir, mayhap they had just not used it again until it was time for little Mir. They certainly shared similarities. Mir and Boromir was like daisy's in a field. They were as much like one another that they seemed to be identical at first look, then yet if one looked closer every petal was unique.

Since Mir is now playing and the Lord Barladro is using no nice language over having been sent off to bed without supper it is well about time to leave this now.

Barladro shall be kept in line temporary, as Mir have made sure of that.

Thanks to his sentries Aragorn is also allowed a temporary respite from his inkwell, and hence there is nothing more for me write, and therefore we have reached another temporary ending. We shall however have come up with at least something by next week.

* * *

Lindahoyland: I think that both Aragorn and Eomer would at times take on a big brother role with Faramir. I also like to think of Eomer as rather alike to Boromir, bluff and rough, but very gentle deep in. Somehow I think that he is most often portrayed as the hard and violent man, and I just think that there have to be much more to him.

I will be writing more angst every now and then, in this story and in others as well. It is just that they take more time to write then my humour stories.

Hm, What did the goat have against the macintosh, and who could not love your stories?

Legolas's Girl 9: I am glad that you found that line amusing, I rather thought that it turned out well myself. Hopefully you shall find more that you like just as much.

Silver Sniper: Ehh, what did you do to your hand? Those protein bars sounded really nasty as well, I sure hope everything is better now. I am also very glad that you like this enough to think it work sticking to. The reason that the spelling and the grammar is better is because Celebrion corrects my mistakes. Thought this time ForeverFaramir helped.

Heh, no one knows what we will stir up next, not even we. We just work it out five chapter ideas at a time or so.

Steelelf: I am ever so glad that you liked it. The reason for the Sheisse on the end was that we hoped that it would be an amusing thing, and also because we wanted it to end with some of the German language. Thank you again, your kind words and encouragement is what makes it so fun and worthwhile to write this.

frodo16424: If you had a sister that had slain the witch king, and liked to punch on you when she was angry at you, would not you fear her? I know that I would, besides, Eomer is a big and brave man, it is fun to poke holes in the big brave warrior attitude that he has, though I try not to be to mean to him.

As for Aragorn fearing Eowyn, we saw in the movies that he really does fear her, how long do you think that he would run to avoid her stew?

Actually it is more something like this, Eowyn is a women who might punch you if angry enough, and considering the shape her husband came home in, she might get rather angry. Eowyn likes her husband and is rather protective of him.

* * *

Here I would like to thank everyone who reads my works, thank you.

Here it must also be said that in the tale "A Two Colour Chain Mail," we started the vote

based on the fact that Sean Bean and David Wenham made the perfect image of two brothers. We also got plenty of agreement on that.

So here it is, if you agree with us and think that they should be real brothers. Say so in your review. It shall be your vote. On my authors page, in the bio I shall keep score.

When the score reaches 100, they shall be declared official brothers. Then on my authors page shall be an official declaration written by Elenhin and Celebrion.

Then the truth can not be denied, they shall be brothers.


	26. Russian Ramblings

Author's Note: This is a bit of a joke that I wrote with the help of a friend. We thought that Faramir was skilled at different languages, and wondered just what languages he could speak.

Trying to think of as many as possible, and writing a story on each. Some languages will be from Lord of the Ring, some will not, but we will name them and where they come from. So Have no fear.

This time we had some fun with the Russian language. The passage used is from Candide, a work of Optimism by Voltaire, and is recommended reading for those with a taste for bizarre humour.

Voltaire and his works will appear in later chapters as well.

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Ring, I only borrow parts of it and shall return them as soon as I am done. Completely undamaged, as I am certain it will be impossible to see where we glued the pieces back together.

* * *

Russian Ramblings

"My Lord, it is time we were about our duties again." Faramir said politely to his King and Lord. The two of them had taken lunch together with their ladies, and now it was time that they resumed their work.

Faramir stood and bowed twice, once in the direction of each lady present. Then he turned to face Aragorn who stood reluctantly.

"Thank you for the pleasant company." Aragorn offered never the less. He kissed his wife tenderly while Faramir brushed his lips softly against Eowyn's cheek. The two men left the room and headed down the hall.

"I do not want to go back to my desk." Aragorn groaned as soon as they were out of ear shot of the ladies.

"I would be lying if I said I looked forward to it with much eagerness myself." Faramir smiled faintly. "Yet its not all that bad, most of it is only routine at this time."

"You do not understand Faramir, there were papers on my desk when I left." Aragorn groaned again and wished he could flee. Was there not any Orc army that needed to be defeated yet? Surely it was easier to defeat an army of raging Orcs than to win a victory over the paperwork.

"My Lord, the last time I looked there were papers on booth our desks." Faramir pointed out carefully. It was not the first time Aragorn whined about the amount of papers littering his desk, he had tried to take on some more of it himself, thinking that the King might be overwhelmed by the amount, but some of it was for the King to deal with, and only the King. There was also no way that he could take on all the work, it was eating up his days as it were.

"I do not think I can recall how my desk looked without papers covering it, that's just the way things are."

"You still do not see it Faramir." Aragorn complained. "Whenever I leave my desk with papers on it, there always seems to be more papers on it when I return. I know that there shall be a mountain on it when I return."

"And my desk had a mountain of papers on it when I left." Faramir shook his head. "Face it my Lord, that is a battle we can not win, we shall never get to the foot of that mountain in our lifetime. There is too much pouring in."

"I know of the amount that pours in every day." Aragorn fixed him with his eyes, a look that came near pleading. "Yet there is somehow more than that. I swear that bloody desk's breeding paperwork Faramir, there is no other explanation for it."

"Ah, yes sir. Er, I agree that it seems like that at times." Faramir tried to think of a perfectly polite and respectful way to tell one's King that one believed that he was losing his mind. He seemed to be at loss of expressions for that situation. "I'm sure that it is just the way it looks though." Faramir decided that it was most likely the work burden that was getting on Aragorn and making him weary. "Mayhap you should call the day early today." He suggested. "I am sure that Lady Arwen would be most happy."

"I'm not sure whatever I dare leave that worm ridden piece of lumber alone." Aragorn growled. "Valar knows what I would find when I came back."

They had taken wine with the food, but all of them had filled their glasses from the same bottle, and that was not even a very potent wine, so Faramir ruled out drunk. For all the tactical skill Faramir had been told he possessed he could not think of any course of action. Was he supposed to suggest to his King that they should post a guard detail on the King's desk, to ensure that it did not make free with the Kings paperwork.

If he gave that command to a guard they would tell Eowyn he had gone mad, and then they would most likely lock him up somewhere for his own safety. They would certainly not heed that order, and that was the same guards that would not go against Denethor's command when he sought to burn his own son.

Actually despite the fact that he was rather partial in his opinion Faramir might agree that Denethor's desperate attempt to burn him on the pyre was not half as crazy as the thought of guarding Aragorn's desk so that it could not breed.

"I'm sure that it will be perfectly safe." Faramir said soothingly, what else could he say. He had no desire to find out just where they locked up those who were considered crazy.

Taking in his Steward's puzzled look Aragorn realized what he must sound like.

"Ignore me." He said with a grin meant to reassure his friend and Steward that he was not crazy. "I was not cut out for that kind of work I'm afraid, and it seems to make me speak like a fool. Pay me no heed when I do."

"As you wish sire." Faramir heaved a sigh in relief that his King was not crazy after all. The tedious work had to be getting on his nerves as well for his mind to jump off in such directions as it had.

They separated to go to their different studies, and Faramir eyes the mound of papers that awaited him in his. Most of the desk was clean surface, kept that way by storing papers in the desk drawers. He was tidy by nature and did not like it when he could not even work out the wood of the desk.

He and his brother had always been so different at that, Faramir neat and orderly, and Boromir right at home in the chaos. It was strange, for Denethor had always spoken of order, yet Boromir was never rebuked for the mess that was his desk, yet Faramir was never praised.

He had often helped Boromir write out his reports, just to keep those who had to read them sane. Deciphering Boromir's scrawl was enough to send a man into madness at times.

Faramir was concentrating on the first order form when there was a knock on the door and Aragorn entered. Even Faramir had stopped knocking and waiting for answer, it took to much time, instead they knocked and then entered.

Aragorn was holding a half crushed paper in his hand, and gesturing with it. Muttering something about that 'bloody desk,' as well as 'fire wood' and 'bloody thing multiplies.'

Faramir steadied himself and waited for the King to tell him what had him so upset.

"This was in one of the stacks of papers on my desk." Aragorn laid the paper down in front of Faramir. "I swear I have never seen it before and yet it was in the middle of one of the piles. How did it get there?"

Faramir smoothed the paper out, once he knew what it was about he could probably offer a better answer as to why it had been delivered to the King. He looked at it, and suddenly knew why the King was so upset by it.

"It's Russian my Lord." He exclaimed. "I have not the slightest idea how it came to your desk, sire. There are no one here that uses it." It was definitely Russian though, he had seen enough of it to recognize it.

"I swear that it's that desk." Aragorn muttered as he tiredly sank into a chair and rubbed a hand over his eyes. "There are all those queer documents that does not make sense, and that inkwell is dry again."

Faramir ignored him, after all he had the King's command that he should ignore him when he was not making sense. Then again one had to listen enough to determine whatever he was making sense or not, so that one could then proceed to ignore him. It would not do to ignore him when he was actually making perfect sense. There was also the fact that he might start making perfect sense in the middle of it, so once again one actually had to listen to what he said, and then ignore it after you had heard it.

Faramir decided that it was one of the more difficult commands that the King had ever given him.

"Can you translate that, so we at least know what it is?" Aragorn asked, he was not sure he wanted to know. It could be anything, and he was afraid of just how bad anything could be.

"It will take time." Faramir said. "I know Russian, but I am not fluent in it." It was a slightly difficult language.

"I'll be very grateful if you can figure it out." Aragorn eyed the papers that littered his friends desk. "Though it looks like you have quite a lot of work to do already."

"Why, these are just the ones I work with for the moment." Faramir said absently as he was still concentrating on the paper. "The rest of it I keep in the drawers."

"Just how much work would that be?" Aragorn asked as he crossed his arms over his chest and eyed the papers on the desk. Faramir was always elusive when asked about how much work he did. Aragorn had always expected that he was doing more than Aragorn wanted him to do. The main hint being that whenever Faramir came to leave him papers he tended to take some other ones with him when he left, and he always seemed to take more than he left.

He had asked his Steward countless times not to do more work than was reasonable, but Faramir was good at not admitting just how much he did. Now that he was distracted it appeared that Aragorn could finally get a truthful answer out of him.

Faramir absently counted of the different routine documents that always littered his study. The number of requests, reports and various other forms.

As he counted them of without really paying heed to the King's response Aragorn committed them to memory. He would not say anything now. That would only alert Faramir to the fact that he had finally given away the information he had guarded for so long.

Instead Aragorn would delegate some of it away before his Steward could lay hands on it. That way Faramir would be ignorant of the fact that he was not in charge of all of it, and being ignorant of it would make it rather hard for him to object. His normal claim that it was his duty to aid the King in all possible ways would be rather hard to stick to if he was unaware that the King had delegated away the work. Then again if anyone could stick to the claim after the reason for it had been removed it was Faramir.

Hopefully Aragorn could distract him so that he did not notice the missing loads of papers. Mayhap that desk had actually done him a good turn, if naught else it had distracted his Steward. He decided that he should try to strike a truce with the desk. The question was how was one supposed to communicate the proposition to a piece of lumber.

"Do you wish for me to bring it to you once I have been able to finish the translation?" Faramir asked. Normally the King would wait where he was, but this would take some time as he was not all that certain of the grammar, and since his vocabulary was rather limited. He would have to be very careful and check full passages for possible errors.

"You are working for me, I think that the least I can do is keep you company while you do it." Aragorn grinned and waved his hand in an off hand gesture. "Will you allow me to send for a glass of wine and we could actually enjoy ourselves for some time." He suggested. Then passed the request to a servant before there could be any objection.

So while Faramir was scribbling down notes, as well as flipping through a few odd books they continued the pleasant small talks. Aragorn hiding amused grins. It appeared that whenever Faramir was distracted with books it was much easier to have a relaxed conversation.

"There my Lord, I have finished it." Faramir said after some time, laying down the paper and grinning pleasantly.

"Let's hear what it is." Aragorn encouraged him. After all the effort Faramir had put into translating that thing he hoped that it was something worth it.

_"Everything is for the best in the best of all possible worlds. At the most inappropriate of times. " _Faramir read slowly. He looked up at the King. "It appears to be an extract from some book, sire. There is that first paragraph, and then what seems to be the title. Candide, and it says here that it was written by Voltaire, though that is a name I have never heard of before." He frowned at the paper.

"Is there any more of it?" Aragorn asked curiously. "I'm not sure whatever the one who said that is optimistic or not. Either he is trying to make the best of it, or he have a queer sense of humour."

Faramir smiled faintly. "There is more sire, I think that someone is making fun of the optimistic way of seeing a situation." He read the rest of the text_. "The little society, one and all, entered into this laudable design and set themselves to exert their different talents. The little piece of ground yielded them a plentiful crop. Cunegund indeed was very ugly, but she became an excellent hand at pastrywork: Pacquette embroidered; the old woman had the care of the linen. There was none, down to Brother Giroflee, but did some service; he was a very good carpenter, and became an honest man. Pangloss used now and then to say to Candide: _

_"There is a concatenation of all events in the best of possible worlds; for, in short, had you not been kicked out of a fine castle for the love of Miss Cunegund; had you not been put into the Inquisition; had you not traveled over America on foot; had you not run the Baron through the body; and had you not lost all your sheep, which you brought from the good country of El Dorado, you would not have been here to eat preserved citrons and pistachio nuts." _

_"Excellently observed," answered Candide; "but let us cultivate our garden." _

"That is optimistic thinking." Aragorn chuckled. "Sounds to like everything that could go wrong went wrong."

"Yet still it would seem it could have turned out worse." Faramir smiled. "After all, all is for the best, it is only the timing that could have been better it appears."

"I shall keep that in mind the next time you complain that there is to much work." Aragorn snickered. "Then I shall claim that there is not much work at all, it only happens so that all the work comes at the same time."

"There is only one flaw in that plan, sire." Faramir said with a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"And what would that be?" Aragorn challenged.

"It is very rarely me who complains that there is to much work."

Aragorn looked just slightly baffled as he recalled that it was indeed he himself that most often complained about the amount of work.

"Then you shall have to be the one using it on me." He allowed with a grin.

"I would never use my King's word against him." Faramir said in a flat voice and with his back straight. Then he smiled again and his eyes sparkled with mirth. "I would study that more and come up with something even better."

Aragorn laughed as he had been bested by his Steward and friend.

"Though if you would excuse me sire I would continue with my work now." Faramir said as he handed the paper back to the King, as well as the translation he had been able to work out. "I promised Eowyn that I would not forget myself and work overly long this eve as she wanted me to go riding with her."

"Then you had best not be late." Aragorn grinned. "I do not think that there is any way for it to turn out for the best if you fail to meet her on time."

"I rather doubt it myself, and am in no hurry to find out whatever it is so or not." Faramir offered a bow. "I bid thee a pleasant evening my Lord."

Aragorn wished him a pleasant ride, urged him to leave his desk early rather than late, and headed back to his study.

_All is for the best in the best of all possible worlds_, it had said. He wondered what world his desk lived in. There were thankfully no new supply of strange documents littering it, but the inkwell was dry _again._

I shall have to end this here as the language Aragorn uses upon the finding a dry inkwell is not one that I can translate. Rather I can, but then I would be kicked away from for using words that should never be expressed as there is not rating high enough to cover it.

Therefore I find it safest to put yet another temporary ending here, even if Celebríon's language use upon finding the word _temporary_ here, might also make the rating unsafe. We shall just have to hope for the best I think.

_Pronounciation Guide by Celebrion:_

_Why would a simple word like 'temporary' make me use inappropriate language? I can't for the world imagine why. I think you know more curses than I anyway..._

_Well, still nothing for me to do except beta-ing...

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_

Steelelf: As always we are very happy to know that you enjoyed it. Hmm, we have not done accents yet, but as we never know everything that will happen, and as we always welcome ideas, who know? There might be that as well.

Lindahoyland: Lord Barladro is a very nasty person, he is not very nice at all, in fact he is actually rather evil.

There might also be more of him.

I was also thinking, maybe we should involve a goat here as they seem to be very funny. ;)

Silver Sniper: We love to get your reviews even should they be late, I hope that you are feeling better now.

Mir is a very funny child, he is a mix between Boromir and Faramir as we see them. He have Boromir's love for fighting, and Faramir's for books, so he makes for a very interesting contrast between the two of them.


	27. Of Greek Confusion and Kings

Author's Note: This is a bit of a joke that I wrote with the help of a friend. We thought that Faramir was skilled at different languages, and wondered just what languages he could speak.

Trying to think of as many as possible, and writing a story on each. Some languages will be from Lord of the Ring, some will not, but we will name them and where they come from. So Have no fear.

This time we have used some Greek.

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Ring, I only borrow parts of it and shall return them as soon as I am done. Completely undamaged, as I am certain it will be impossible to see where we glued the pieces back together.

Now, please read this, 'ehurm', masterful work, or whatever it is. I do however hope you enjoy it.

* * *

Greek Letters and the Confusion They Bring to Unsuspecting Kings 

Faramir walked among the shelves in the library, stopping every now and then to look closer at one of the tomes. Gently brushing against their worn leather spines with his fingertips. After some time he pulled one of the thicker tomes from its snug home on the shelf and brought it to the table near the fireplace for a brief study.

He skimmed the pages while smiling to himself, this would indeed be a challenge and it was a welcomed one. Feeling very pleased he brought it with him back to his chambers.

Eowyn shook her head knowingly as Faramir came in and sat down by his desk. She knew what was coming when he had that expression on his face. He had found something that would make him lose every connection to the outside world. It was up to her to make sure that he did not starve as he would not realize when it was dinner time on his own. How any man could miss the fact that his own stomach was rumbling was beyond her.

As soon as he had left the dining table and given her a brief hug he had his nose in the book again. This time making heavy use of his quill.

Knowing that he would stay up reading all night if he was not stopped she used all her persuasive powers, and a rather transparent night gown to get him to bed. She was however not sure whatever it was the night gown or the threat to burn the book that made him heed her.

When she awoke in the morning he was already sitting with the book again, so mayhap she should try to get an even more revealing night gown, in the hopes that it would hold his attention just a little longer.

Faramir was enjoying the fact that he could spend the whole day reading. The King had suggested that they should both ignore the matters of state for a few days. The reason was the council that was coming up. Aragorn reasoned that since it was so tedious they should both rest before it started.

Faramir agreed whole heartedly. There was nothing so tiresome than the bickering councillors that could never agree on even one single thing.

The matters of state could however not be ignored completely as they were both bombarded with letters from said bickering councillors. All of them requisitioning that the King and Steward to this and that. All of them desiring to gain ground before the actual council began. Faramir wondered where they found the energy for it as he read through another such letter.

Since it was one that might actually cause trouble he regretfully lay aside his book for a moment. Only long enough to write a note for the King though. It might go so far that they would have to do something about the Lord Barladro. He was beginning to become less of a nuisance and more of real trouble.

As soon as he had sent a young page off with the letter he took up the book again. He was always eager to learn a new language.

* * *

Either he was losing his mind, Aragorn thought ruefully, or Faramir was. Having received a letter from his Steward by a page was not unusual, but this time it made no sense. The paper was covered in some strange marks he had never seen before. Some looked ordinary, but the rest of them! What was that curled around thing supposed to be? 

It made no sense for Faramir to send something like this. Sighing he decided that he might as well find his friend and ask him what it was about.

Faramir was easily found as Aragorn had been fairly certain he would be reading. When were his friend not reading if it was his choice.

"What are you studying this time?" Aragorn grinned as he took a seat on a chair beside the other man's desk. Sitting before Faramir had time to stand and bow.

"Greek." Faramir held the book so that he could see. "It is rather fascinating even if Eowyn never would agree with me. "I think that I have mastered the form of writing, so now I am working on the grammar and my vocabulary."

Aragorn flipped through a few pages and noted amused that he recognized the written words of the Greek language.

"I'd say that you have mastered the written form of it, yes." He chuckled. "Mind explaining to me why you saw fit to bestow a letter written in Greek to me?"

Faramir gave him confused look that said he had no idea what Aragorn was talking about and Aragorn laughed as he took out the letter.

"A page came with this to me, he said that you had sent him." Aragorn spread the paper out on the desk.

"Oh." Was all Faramir said as he looked at it. "I'm terribly sorry Sire. I did not realize. I must have had the Greek alphabet on my mind as I was trying to learn it." He blushed an embarrassed hue of red.

"No need to fret so." Aragorn chuckled. "I was merely a slight bit confused. I know how easily those things stick to your mind. It is no problem."

"I should not show such tardiness about the matters of state." Faramir said ruefully. "Truly I am sorry Sire, for many of the nobles would take offence did they know."

"Many of the nobles are fools Faramir." Aragorn gave him a warm smile. "Their words carry little weight, and this." He motioned to the paper. "Makes more sense than they do I fear."

In spite of feeling like a fool Faramir smiled. "I still should not have allowed myself to become so distracted." He berated himself, since his King would not berate him.

"I know how distracted you get when you have a book Faramir." Aragorn smirked amused. "Have you even remembered to eat this day."

"Certainly." Faramir smiled as he had at least not shown tardiness at this. "I broke fast with Eowyn this morn, before she went on her ride."

"Faramir." Aragorn smiled knowingly. "It's two hours past lunch."

"Then I have to say no to my great shame." Faramir said properly ashamed.

"I am not scolding you my friend. If truth be told I did not recall it myself before your letter came and distracted me from my book." Aragorn looked slightly guilty as he admitted this. "What say you, shall we go and find us a late lunch. Then you can explain this matter to me. And, when our wives questions us we can claim that we actually did remember to eat our midday meal."

"It would no doubt save me a scolding." Faramir smiled and his eyes twinkled. "I would even be able to scold her for not trusting me."

"A deal then." Aragorn rose. "I think that we shall go to my study, the cooks are used to sending food there at odd times so they shall think nothing about it."

Faramir agreed willingly and so they headed to Aragorn's study.

"Odd, I do not recall leaving any papers on my desk." Aragorn muttered as he sent a servant for the food.

"We deal with enough papers every day that one might think they breed." Faramir joked. He recalled that the King had joked about that at some time, and at times he was almost willing to believe it. "It is more than one can keep track of at any rate."

The only thing left on this chapter now is that our King and Steward enjoy their temporary respite before council.

Since the councillors and nobles are always bugging them I have decided not to do so again until it is time for the next chapter.

Allowing them a temporary pause from an obnoxious writer with to many weird ideas that are all demanding to be put on the computer screen.

So until the next chapter I bid you all a temporary ending.

_  
Pronounciation Guide by Celebrion:_

_Well, the only NON-temporary thing about this fic is the obnoxiousness of its writer..._

_Me, I only help her come up with ideas and then beta them. Hoping to make readable so the general public will not get bad mental images and sore eyes from the spelling..._

_See you next week! Now I will go rest my eyes as they are running for the hills...

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_

Silver Sniper: Thank you. We do like the desk, and on request we have written a single piece staring mainly the desk, it will soon be posted, but as a stand alone and not as chapter on this one. Also, use what words you like, if they are not in the dictionary, then clearly the dictionary needs to be updated, as for spelling, I am a dyslexic how would I know whatever it is correct or not? ;) That is why I do the typing and Celebrion is my spell check.

Lindahoyland: Faramir is getting better at telling when Aragorn is teasing him, and he even dares to tease back again. As for the Russian, however did any of the strange languages wind up there, simply, by means of the Kingdom of Dust.

Aragorn and Faramir are always plotting to free the other from work. They are sort of sneaking around each other to steal each others work, and is that not fun?

* * *

Here I would like to thank everyone who reads my works, thank you. 

Here it must also be said that in the tale "A Two Colour Chain Mail," we started the vote

based on the fact that Sean Bean and David Wenham made the perfect image of two brothers. We also got plenty of agreement on that.

So here it is, if you agree with us and think that they should be real brothers. Say so in your review. It shall be your vote. On my authors page, in the bio I shall keep score.

When the score reaches 100, they shall be declared official brothers. Then on my authors page shall be an official declaration written by Elenhin and Celebrion.

Then the truth can not be denied, they shall be brothers.


	28. The Bookof Braille

Author's Note: This is a bit of a joke that I wrote with the help of a friend. We thought that Faramir was skilled at different languages, and wondered just what languages he could speak.

Trying to think of as many as possible, and writing a story on each. Some languages will be from Lord of the Ring, some will not, but we will name them and where they come from. So Have no fear

This time we chose not to do an actual language, but more of an alphabet, we have used Braille and have had a book written in Braille appear.

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Ring, I only borrow parts of it and shall return them as soon as I am done. Completely undamaged, as I am certain it will be impossible to see where we glued the pieces back together.

Now, please read this, 'ehurm', masterful work, or whatever it is. I do however hope you enjoy it.

* * *

The Book of Braille

Aragorn entered Faramir's study with a confused expression on his face. He was holding a slim leather book in his hand, and he was frowning at it. Faramir had never seen him look upon a book with such confusion before.

"Faramir, I think this book is broken."

"Broken, sire?" Faramir asked raising an questioning eyebrow. Aragorn had entered claiming strange things, seemingly out of the air before. Usually it had to do with his desk, but this sounded like it might top the list, and what was it with Aragorn and his desk anyway?

"Broken." Aragorn confirmed with a nod. The kind of nod Faramir's children gave him when they thought that Faramir should understand something so obvious. Something that was usually only obvious to them. "You can't read it." Aragorn went on as he held it out to Faramir.

Faramir took it carefully and opened it to flip through a few pages. "There is no print." He noted.

"I noticed." Aragorn said with a tone that was on the brink of sarcasm. Something like how Faramir's children sounded when their father finally understood what they had been talking about.

Faramir flipped through it again. "Where did you find this?" He asked.

"In a corner of the archive. It had no title, so I opened it to see what it was."

"It has some odd dents on the pages." Faramir noted.

"Which is why I do not think it is just a blank book that wound up there by mistake. However no one knows what it is. Faramir, you are usually able to find out these things. Do you think that you could find out about what it, what it is?" Aragorn sounded almost pleadingly.

"I can certainly try." Faramir offered, if naught else he was curious enough about it to want to.

"Please do." Aragorn grinned. He was confident that Faramir would be able to figure out what it was. He was usually able to get results on these things. Aragorn did however no have any idea of how he did it. Faramir was closemouthed about where he went for information, and Aragorn was loath to ask. If Faramir preferred to keep that information to himself, then Aragorn would not ask.

"I will get to it as soon as I have finished this." Faramir promise with a gesture to the document that was in front of him.

"What is it?" Aragorn enquired leaning in closer to see better.

"A routine report from the army." Faramir held it up for him to see. "The report they send every three months."

"I can deal with that." Aragorn offered. Those things was boring, and he was aware that Faramir often took care of them to spare Aragorn.

"I do not go through all the trouble I do to get it before you, just to have you take it back from me as soon as you see it." Faramir answered with a grin. "It is my duty to spare you from the heaviest workload, and I shall not relent." He gave Aragorn a confident and amused smile. The one that made him look so much like his brother.

"We try to spare each other." Aragorn nodded knowingly. "We shall see who wins in the end Faramir, I can command you with more authority than you can command me."

"Not so, sire." Faramir allowed a victorious smile tug at his lips.

"How do you come to that conclusion?" Aragorn crossed his arms across his chest.

"Because if I think that you take on to much of the workload. I may go and inform the Queen." Oh, Aragorn recalled that cocky lopsided smile from Boromir. When the big dunce of a man held all the cards, and he so smugly only used enough of them to keep you on the edge. Never pressing all of it, just making sure you know that he could do that.

"You forget something Faramir." Aragorn chuckled. He knew Faramir well enough by now to turn the table on him.

"What is that?" The grin faded away slightly, as he tried to figure out where the flaw in his plan were.

"I may tell your wife as well." Aragorn told him smugly. "And I would think that Eowyn would be far more upset than Arwen."

"I was rather hoping that you would not see it that way." Faramir admitted as he looked like a small boy who had been caught trying to raid the cookie jar.

"I know." Aragorn chuckled. "I could still do it though, so you had better hand me that document and look like you are happy to do so."

"You do not fight fair my Lord. You steal my tactic and you use it against me." Faramir complained as he handed over the document. He would make sure to take something else off of the King's hands later as he had been made to surrender the document.

"I was not aware we had decided upon any rules for this game we play." Aragorn grinned. "And before you get the idea into your head that you will steal something else equally tedious, I shall be guarding my documents well." He gave Faramir a friendly smile as he picked up the document. "Now see what you can find out about that one."

"As you wish, my Lord." Faramir performed a seated bow.

When Aragorn had left Faramir went of in search for a dear friend of his. He was certain that he would find Carl where he always was. If anything at all was certain, it was that the Friar would be hiding from the monks who thought he should spend more time praying.

He entered the _Kingdom of Dust_ and noted that the dust motes had grown since his last visit. They now looked more well fed than ever. It was not wonder that Carl was the only one who braved going in here. Present company excluded of course. He had no calms about going in here.

"I was beginning to wonder where you had gone off to." A voice suddenly came from behind him and he spun around.

"Hello Carl." He said cheerfully. "I apologize for having been away rather long."

Carl shrugged it off with a small smile. "It is no matter my friend. As long as you have brought something interesting." He rubbed his hands together eagerly.

"My King found this book which he claimed was broken." Faramir held it out to Carl. "I think that the dents are the print, but I have no idea of how to read it."

Carl took the book from his hands and opened it. "Well I can tell you about this right off." He said happily. "It's Braille. You read it with your fingers."

Faramir gave him a strange look. "Read it with your fingers?"

"Yes." Carl absently ran his fingers over the dents. "That way even a blind man can actually read. Each group of dents is built up out of a pattern you see."

"And each pattern represents a letter." Faramir guessed and Carl nodded. "A very useful method.

"Yes, precisely." Carl looked around with a thoughtful expression on his face. "I know that there is a book here somewhere that has the whole system in it. You could study it and then you could tell what that book is about."

"Around here somewhere." Faramir nodded with an amused smile. "I do not suppose you know at least what corner it would be in."

"Well, actually yes." Carl grinned smugly. "It should be somewhere over here."

"Let us find it then." Faramir grinned. If Carl knew where it would be it could not be too hard.

"Define, too hard." He muttered to Carl as he wondered if he dared to stretch just a little further to the side. The book had turned out to be placed on one of the highest shelves and Faramir had been forced to retort to using the ladder to reach high enough. Only the ladder was a slight bit too far away from the book, and he was not sure if he could stretch any further to the side without the ladder toppling.

"For the moment I would define, _too hard_, as taking a certain book from its shelf." Carl stated. The spine of the book was just out of reach from Faramir's fingertips. Faramir tried to stretch another centimetre and felt the ladder waver beneath him. With a sigh he climbed down and moved it. It was a bulky one and so he only pushed it another foot closer before climbing up again.

There it was, just out of reach for his fingertips. Faramir blinked with surprise. "I just moved the ladder closer, did I not?" He mumbled confused.

"You most defiantly did." Carl said sounding baffled. "It should now be within easy reach."

"It is not." Faramir pointed out.

"It should be." Carl stated.

"It is that book. Is it not?" Faramir asked as he recalled a previous encounter with a book that seemed to be moving around on the shelf whenever one tried to grab it. It had been night impossible to get the book that time.

Carl nodded ruefully. "Unfortunately it is a very useful book." He explained. "I am however afraid that it has become aware of it, and thinks that it therefore can do what it wants."

"I am almost willing to agree." Faramir finally managed to take the book down, but he did not like how the ladder wavered beneath it. "Can we not leave it somewhere where it is easier to reach." He asked as he quickly climbed down.

"I already did that." Carl pointed out.

"I take that as a 'no' then." Faramir sighed. "At least we now have it, and hopefully we shan't need it for some time. They brought the book over to a table where Faramir studied it intently for some time. In the meantime Carl took the book Faramir had brought and studied that one. Trying to figure out what it was about.

"I think that I know this well enough now." Faramir closed the book.

"I think I know this well enough as well." Carl closed the book. "Just put that somewhere, it shan't really matter where after all."

Faramir brought it over to a shelf that looked nice and snug. "If I place you here, will you please stay here." He asked it. At least it made no escape attempt as he slid it into a place on the shelf.

"You will be going back now I take it." Carl noted.

"Aye, My King just discovered that I had been stealing some of his workload, and he made me give it back to him. Now I need a new plan for stealing it back from him."

"Why are you stealing the work from each other?" Carl asked curiously.

"I do it because I think that he works to much." Faramir shrugged. "He does it because he thinks that I work to much."

"So instead of just telling each other to work less, you are always stealing the other one's work." Carl decided. "Would it not be much more simple to just agree that you booth should work less."

"It probably would." Faramir was forced to admit. "But we would not have as much fun. I think that it is the distraction of doing it that keeps the job from becoming too much for us."

"I think that I understand then." Carl smiled lightly.

"Yes, so I think that I shall take my leave now. Hopefully it shan't take so long before I am back this time." Faramir made his way back where the King awaited.

"Did you find out what it was?" Aragorn asked eagerly as soon as he saw Faramir.

"Actually yes." Faramir laid the book on the Kings desk.

"Are you going to tell me?" Aragorn asked raising his eyebrows.

"Of course my sire. Just as soon as I receive my work back" Faramir grinned smugly.

"Blackmailing, Faramir? I am surprised." Aragorn teased him.

"I am as well my lord, but I thought that it might work." Faramir grinned.

"Not so Faramir. This time as soon as you have told me you are going to take an early evening with your family." Aragorn stated kingly. "I intend to do that, and I will not leave you to work when I do."

"Very well then sire, I shall explain how you read this particularly book." He demonstrated his newfound skill to Aragorn.

"That is clever." Aragorn decided. "Very cleaver."

"Whoever made it knew what he was doing." Faramir decided.

"And do you know what you are going to be doing now Faramir."

"Back to work sire." Faramir tried wishfully.

"Back home to your family. And then later in the evening you shall bring your family over to mine to dine. Is that understood."

"Aye my liege." Faramir performed a perfect bow.

"Good, I shall see you then my friend, now get out of here." Aragorn moved forward threateningly as if he would resort to bodily force to get his Steward to go home, however the smile on his face somewhat ruined the image.

"Until later then, Sire." Faramir took his revenge on the teasing in the way he knew best. By his best and stiffest formality. The bow was deep and he slipped backwards towards the door. Of all things that made Aragorn grind his teeth the best was that he could not make him stop that formality. Faramir kept the smirk of his face until he had reached the corridor outside the study.

Now this chapter have reached its temporary end, as there is not much more to tell here. It seems to me better to leave that for a future chapter as we temporary do not have anything to put there. Fear not though, we shall soon have put some temporary substance there. Until then may you all fare well.

_Pronounciation Guide by Celebrion:_

_Why does it feel like I've just been degraded to 'temporary substance'?_

_Especially since the 'language' of this week really is an alphabet... So there isn't anything weird to pronounce. Well, I'll just be my usual _permanently_ irritating self then._

_Tata!

* * *

_

Silver Sniper: Yes, at times those things really seems to multiply, which is why we got the idea. The desk fic should be out soon, hopefully this week, but I do not dare to promise that. Until then I hope that this gave you a good laugh.

Legolas's Girl 9: Glad you liked the chapter, I have actually been presented with the Greek alphabet as a code we had to crack once on a scout camp, so I know how confusing it can look. We did manage to crack it thought.

Steelelf: Yes, a very good desk. We all like it, and the desk is not done yet. Besides the afore mentioned desk one shot that will be posted soon, we have more ideas regarding the desk.

Lindahoyland: If you laughed, then we succeeded. Oh yes, Aragorn and Faramir have a few well developed routines by now, such as trying to steal all the work from one another, and Eowyn is getting quite inventive in her ways of distracting Faramir. Also, both Aragorn and Faramir fear the wrath of their wives just as much, with Arwen and Eowyn, would not you?

Foreverfaramir: Ah, yes, it seems like the nightgown was quite appreciated. I thought that it was a rather humorous idea, and it seems like it worked out very well. Feel free to remember it and use it however much you want, I might come back to something along that line myself.

Earendil Eldar: No Romanian yet I must admit, thought it is a very interesting idea, would you happen to have anything that you think we can use?

If so, please send it along, we are always grateful for ideas and tips. Thank you very much for the vote, it is slow going, but we are steadily approaching our goal.

* * *

Here I would like to thank everyone who reads my works, thank you.

Here it must also be said that in the tale "A Two Colour Chain Mail," we started the vote

based on the fact that Sean Bean and David Wenham made the perfect image of two brothers. We also got plenty of agreement on that.

So here it is, if you agree with us and think that they should be real brothers. Say so in your review. It shall be your vote. On my authors page, in the bio I shall keep score.

When the score reaches 100, they shall be declared official brothers. Then on my authors page shall be an official declaration written by Elenhin and Celebrion.

Then the truth can not be denied, they shall be brothers.


	29. Creepy Coockies

Author's Note: This is a bit of a joke that I wrote with the help of a friend. We thought that Faramir was skilled at different languages, and wondered just what languages he could speak.

Trying to think of as many as possible, and writing a story on each. Some languages will be from Lord of the Ring, some will not, but we will name them and where they come from. So Have no fear

This week we have attempted to put something down in Arabic, and we hope that you shall all be able to enjoy said attempt.

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Ring, I only borrow parts of it and shall return them as soon as I am done. Completely undamaged, as I am certain it will be impossible to see where we glued the pieces back together.

Now, please read this, 'ehurm', masterful work, or whatever it is. I do however hope you enjoy it.

* * *

**Creepy Cookies**

Aragorn looked up as Merry and Pippin entered his study. They had been very calm and not caused any chaos at all for a few days, so he supposed they had been saving up for something big.

"May we borrow some stuff for writing?" Merry asked.

"What did you intend to write?" Aragorn asked. As long as these two were involved he doubted that it was just a letter home. They would never be doing something so simple.

"Just a short note really." Merry assured him, he sounded to reassuring for Aragorn not to believe that they were up to something.

"To Faramir." Pippin chimed in and Merry elbowed him in the side.

Aragorn leaned back and gave them a scrutinizing stare. "Why would you need to write something?" He asked. "You could simply go over to his study and tell him."

Merry glared at Pippin for having given too much away, and Pippin took no notice of the glare.

"We have thought of a way to give him a language he does not know." Merry said carefully. "It did not work the last time."

"And so you think that it will work this time?" Aragorn admired their optimism, he really did.

"Yeah." Pippin nodded eagerly.

"Pippin, I really doubt that you can find a language here that he has not found before you." Aragorn stated. "But if you want to try, by all means do so." It would keep them occupied for some time, and it could hardly do any harm as Faramir would surely know whatever language they chose, and would no doubt know who had tried to play a prank on him.

The two Hobbits ran over to the desk to receive few sheets of paper, ink and a quill.

"He won't be able to know this one." Pippin stated confidently. "We are making it up ourselves."

Aragorn had to admit that it was probably the only way to get one over Faramir where another language was concerned. In fact, there was a good chance that it could work, he looked at the strange curls and stuff they were making on the paper. They were even making them from the right to the left, to make it even more confusing.

If Faramir could decipher that Aragorn would eat a whole bowl of Eowyn's stew.

"How do you intend to give it to him?" Aragorn asked, wondering if they had intended to set one of their more complex plans into motion, or if they had realized that those rarely worked.

"We're just gonna give it to him and claim that we found it somewhere." Merry stated as they added a last line of strange curly script.

"Then you can do so tonight." Aragorn decided. "He and Eowyn will be dining with us tonight. For some reason Arwen and Eowyn always insist that we eat together."

The two Hobbits giggled as they knew the reason.

They had been there when the two women had figured out the plan. On their own the two men were more likely to forget about going home to eat, and stay in their study instead. However if they were told that they would eat together, than Aragorn would make sure that Faramir did not forget as he thought the younger man tended to lean towards self neglect when it came to these things. Faramir, in much the same way would make sure that Aragorn took the time to eat as he thought that the King worked too much.

Neither of the men had thus far realized that they were being used against each other, and their wives were still laughing mirthfully over it.

Aragorn believed that he was looking out for his Steward, and Faramir believed he was taking care of his King, while in all reality their wives were manipulating them.

It was something that the two Hobbits thought were most amusing, and they were a bit disappointed that they had not been the first ones to think about that.

On the other hand there were many ways to manipulate the two men, if they went to Aragorn and said that they thought Faramir had forgotten to eat lunch he would always call to the kitchen for a meal, and they would always be invited. They would also be the ones sent to get Faramir, and then they would tell him that it was Aragorn who had forgotten to eat lunch, and suddenly the two Hobbits as well as the two men had eaten two lunches.

It had been all to easy to make Arwen and Eowyn give them food in return for a promise to make sure their husbands did not forgot to eat, so in truth it was only Aragorn and Faramir who were not manipulating anyone.

Usually they were too busy trying to steal work from one another to figure out a plan for manipulating someone.

Merry and Pippin thought that it was a shame, both of the men could be quite good at it if they would only try it.

Aragorn was feeling quite please with himself, by allowing their game to continue he could invite the Hobbits to dine with them, beside the supper they would be sure to eat with the other Hobbits, the way he saw it the Hobbits deserved an extra meal whenever he could find a way to manipulate things for it to be arranged.

"Sounds swell." Merry decided.

"We'll just stay here and keep you company until then." Pippin added.

Aragorn considered having the two of them in his study while he worked, it was not something he thought could work. They would no doubt become bored after a mere few minutes, and it was a few hours until supper time yet. He would rather they did something else.

"I have another idea." He told them seriously. "Why do you not go and charm some snack out of the cook. I am sure that you would be able to get some honey cakes, and then you could go to Faramir and make sure that he is at supper at time." That would keep them busy, and Aragorn had no doubt that Faramir would appreciate a few honey cakes. Faramir was also good at keeping the Hobbits amused while still being able to work. He claimed that he had much experience from Boromir playing the fool while he tried to get some work done.

Merry and Pippin was more than pleased, they had known that Aragorn would suggest something like that. Aragorn was in reality all to predictable. Then when you went to Faramir's study and claimed that Aragorn had thrown you out he always allowed you to stay, Faramir was also too predictable.

Predictable people was just so much fun.

* * *

Merry and Pippin allowed the others to finish the meal before they brought out the paper. 

Everyone had enjoyed the supper and most of the dishes now stood empty on the table, except a bowl of stew of Eowyn's making. She claimed to have gotten the recipe from Sam, but none had been brave enough to try it, and she said that she could not blame them. She was trying to learn how to cook at least rudimentary, but at the present point not even she herself had courage enough to try it.

"Faramir, we found this in the archive, could you tell us what it says?" Merry asked as he handed Faramir a folded piece of paper.

"You always know all languages, and we had no idea ourselves." Pippin went on.

"I can not promise you that I will know it, but by all means I will take a look at it." Faramir promised as he took the paper.

Aragorn had to admit that he was impressed that the two Hobbits were able to keep from giggling. They looked completely innocent and curious.

Faramir frowned as he looked on the unfolded paper. "Wherever have you found a recipe in Arabic?" He asked them absently while he studied it. "And not the best form of it, I think I can translate it though."

"So you mean that it is a real language then?" Merry asked slightly downcast.

"Of course it is." Faramir said absently. "After all I hardly think it would be in the archive if it was not." He strove to decipher a slightly blurred word. "Lets see here, it seems to be a recipe. 'Mix butter, sugar and flour. Flatten out the dough in a pan and bake for fifteen minutes. Spread a layer of honey over the dough and then let it harden in a cool place.'"

Faramir looked at them with a broad smile. "It is a recipe for honey cakes." He beamed cheerfully. "I must say that it was a good thing that you found it."

"We thought that you would like it." Merry tried not to show his disappointment over the fact that Faramir had actually been able to read it. Pippin looked cheerful only because of the prospect of getting to try the honey cakes. Aragorn swallow with dread.

"I think that I shall try some of that after all." He said to Eowyn and asking her is she could fill his bowl with some stew.

They all of them looked at him as if he had lost his mind.

"Aragorn, are you sure?" Eowyn asked.

"Yes, if you take the trouble to try to learn, then the least we can do is try it." He hoped he sounded convincing.

Apparently he was a bit too convincing for Faramir held out his bowl as well, decided that if Aragorn was nice enough to Eowyn to try the stew, he should as well as her husband.

Aragorn thought that it served him right since it was in all reality Faramir's fault that he himself had to eat it. If Faramir had just had the sense not to know Merry and Pippin's made up an Arabic language Aragorn would never have been forced to eat the stew.

Granted the stew was better than it had been, but a full bowl was still too much, the good thing was the grateful expression on Eowyn's face, apparently it meant quite a lot to her that they choked down some of it. After all Faramir did it because he cared for Eowyn.

Arwen too looked grateful and Aragorn felt certain she would show her gratitude later, Eowyn was after all her friend.

Still the next time the Hobbits came up with something they were certain that Faramir would not be able to read he would make sure to promise to do something less likely to be fatal, helping Legolas with his bow practice by standing in for the target should do.

We will leave of here before forced to go into the details concerning Eowyn's stew, and just say that the recipe should be possible to use as stated as we have merely simplified another recipe. While the cakes bake we shall also take a temporary ending here until next week.

_Pronounciation Guide by Celebrion:_

None should ever have to be exposed to a stew of Éowyn's... Oh, the horror! 

_Mmm, cakes... We can mail you some if we can fit them in the scanner!_

Well, nothing for me to do so see ya next week!

* * *

Silver Sniper: Ah, then your week should be complete now, knowing that you enjoy it still means a lot to us. Glad that you liked Carl as well, he will come to return later as well. I am afraid that it is not a ghost that makes things appear, it has to do with other things, and due to all the positive response on out desk fic we have decided to continue with it, and in it more of those things will be explained. 

ForeverFaramir: Ah yes Carl, he seems to be quite popular, but then again you like anything with Daisy in it. ;)

There will however as stated be more Carl to come. Oh yes, we are having great fun with the way Aragorn and Faramir tries to steal the work from one another, they are very amusing that way.

Legolas's Girl 9: As always we are very glad that you liked it.

Lindahoyland: The friendly banter between Aragorn and Faramir is very fun to write. It is something that seems to come very easy to the two of them. Oh, and I knew that letter would have to come into play, I really love what you are doing with that story, and as soon as I have posted this I will be looking for an update.

Steelelf: I take it you really liked it then. It makes my day to know you are enjoying yourself reading this, I hope that you will enjoy this as well.

Earendil Eldar: I love to read your reviews whenever I get them, and I do know how easy it is to get caught up in writing. Yet I do hope that you take time to enjoy yourself by letting others amuse you as well. Hopefully you shall have been able to get a laugh out of reading this.

* * *

Here I would like to thank everyone who reads my works, thank you. 

Here it must also be said that in the tale "A Two Colour Chain Mail," we started the vote

based on the fact that Sean Bean and David Wenham made the perfect image of two brothers. We also got plenty of agreement on that.

So here it is, if you agree with us and think that they should be real brothers. Say so in your review. It shall be your vote. On my authors page, in the bio I shall keep score.

When the score reaches 100, they shall be declared official brothers. Then on my authors page shall be an official declaration written by Elenhin and Celebrion.

Then the truth can not be denied, they shall be brothers.


	30. Sharpe's French

Author's Note: This is a bit of a joke that I wrote with the help of a friend. We thought that Faramir was skilled at different languages, and wondered just what languages he could speak.

Trying to think of as many as possible, and writing a story on each. Some languages will be from Lord of the Ring, some will not, but we will name them and where they come from. So Have no fear

If the title should happen to not be a dead give away that we are doing French this time, I might add that we are doing French this time.

Thanks goes to Earendil Eldar for translating the French for us. The joke here is that the Sharpe books are very nice books, and in the filming of them Sean Bean was picked to play Sharpe, as we all know, Sean Bean also played Boromir.

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Ring, I only borrow parts of it and shall return them as soon as I am done. Completely undamaged, as I am certain it will be impossible to see where we glued the pieces back together.

Sharpe's French

* * *

Aragorn sat in one of the comfortable chairs in the small library that was in his chambers. Some enjoyable evening reading was exactly what he had been looking forward to.

The children was playing in another room, the whole litter of them. Eowyn had been restless and had dragged Arwen outside, while Faramir occupied the other armchair.

The two men had eagerly grasped the chance for some reading in peace and quiet. The children behaved themselves perfectly so there was no need for any man to worry about distractions.

There was also a book that Aragorn had looked forward to reading for some time. While Faramir had been walking around looking at the shelves first. Trying to find something that would be enjoyable to read.

In the end Aragorn had recommended a book of elvish lore to him that he seemed to be very content with. He could tell that Faramir enjoyed it by the way his eyes sparkled.

Then Aragorn frowned as he came upon something strange on the page.

"Something amiss, sire?" Faramir would have had to have been looking at him to pick up on it so fast.

"I thought that we agreed that this was a private evening without titles." Aragorn chided him gently.

"We did, I apologize." Faramir bowed his head with a small grin.

"I forgive you, if you stop that bowing." Aragorn pretended to glare at him.

"As you wish my liege." Faramir said dead pan, he was far better at this game than his King was. He could school his features to match his words.

"Faramir, stop it." Aragorn tried to sound menacing but failed on account of a burst of laughter.

"What was it that had you frowning?" Faramir asked, going from baiting his king to friendly conversation smoothly.

"A strange passage in this book." Aragorn explained. "It is an epic about a soldier in war, but there is a passage here, and I do not know what it means."

"Mayhap I will." Faramir offered.

Aragorn went back to the page until he found the passage. "_Dieu n'est pas pour les grandes battalones, mais les mieux projectiles_."

"Just give me a moment. It's French, and I should be able to translate it for you." Faramir offered with a smile. He turned the phrase over in his mind until he got the right formulation of it. "_God is not on the side of the big battalions, but on the best shot's._" He said. "That should be an accurate translation of it." Then it was his turn to frown. "Though I can not understand what French would be doing in your epic tale."

"Apparently someone called Voltaire said it." Aragorn told him. He had been able to get that much from the book. "For some reason the soldier thinks that it is funny."

"Voltaire was an interesting author." Faramir offered with a smile. "He mastered satire very well."

"Have you read it?" Aragorn questioned.

"I have read some of his works." Faramir admitted. "He wrote a book on the subject of optimism that also have a rather interesting quote in it."

"Well, what?" Aragorn demanded good naturedly.

"_All is for the best, in the best of all possible worlds, at the most inappropriate of times."_ Faramir quoted from memory. "No matter what misfortune that befell them, they claimed that in the end it was still for the best. That is what I call true optimism." He glanced curiously at the book Aragorn read. "Now tell me about your soldier epic now."

"Well the soldiers name is Richard Sharpe." Aragorn said. "I have never heard about the war that they are in, and neither of the countries, so I am guessing it is entirely fictional. They also have some weapons called _rifles_ that I have never heard of before. It appears that Sharpe belongs to a troop of _rifle-men_ that calls themselves chosen men, apparently some sort of elite soldiers."

Faramir nodded thoughtfully. "Since you say elite soldiers I take it that they are rather good."

"They seem good enough. Sharpe is said to have risen from the ranks because of his skills." Aragorn explained. "Though most of the officers considers themselves better than him and resents him for it. He does however seem to have the love of his troops."

"The other officers are fools then, a man who can rise from the ranks must be a skilled one." Faramir stated. Both he and Boromir had been forced to prove their worth before they could be promoted in the army. True, they had not started at the lowest, but neither had they been handed anything, if they had not been good enough, they would have been degraded.

"It is a very amusing tale to read as he has his own methods." Aragorn chuckled. "He seems to teach discipline rather brusque, but he has an interesting relationship with his men."

"Wait a moment." Faramir said thoughtfully. "I seem to recall what you say, I think that I have read something of it before. Not all of it, but some of it. Sharpe, did he have a rather rough language."

"To put it mildly, yes." Aragorn grinned. "I think that the politest way he has ever referred to anyone by is _bugger_. "

"Yes, I remember that." Faramir grinned. "If the soldiers did not do their duty he was not above giving them a beating, but he never flogged anyone."

"Harsh but fair." Aragorn nodded. "Did his duty, and made sure that others did their's. Though he did have some interesting methods of how he did his duty."

"Aye, I recall that." Faramir grinned. "If I recall correctly he captured the enemy standard once. A coward of a commander lost them their own standard, so the whole company was in disgrace for it. They were near dissolved because of the acts of an officer who should never have been allowed to become an officer. Lost both the standard and a lot of soldier's lives."

"And he captured the enemy standard?" Aragorn asked curiously.

"It was the only way for that regiment to regain their own honour." Faramir nodded. "He never asked anyone else to go with him for it, and yet they all followed him, because they wanted to, because they trusted him to be able to do it."

"That sounds like one soldier I once had the honour of knowing." Aragorn said seriously.

Faramir quieted as Aragorn spoke, he knew what was coming, and it was a burden that still weighed heavily on him.

"He sounds a lot like Boromir." Aragorn went on, watching Faramir closely as his dearly missed brother was mentioned. "Always did his duty, fair and hard, and a brave warrior."

"The bravest." Faramir choked. "There was none braver than Boromir, never were."

"Boromir was one of a kind." Aragorn agreed. "Though I have met at least one who I beheld to be as brave as him. He had a little brother you know, one who might be smaller, but no less valiant."

"Never enough to meet his standard." Faramir shook his head. "But that was just the thing with Boromir, he never demanded that I did. He saw what values I had. Like Sharpe there." Faramir blurted out to avoid comparison with his brother. "He never demanded that his men be as good as him, he demanded that they did his best, and they did, for he never demanded of them what he would not do himself." He went on hurriedly. "They knew that he would always stand behind them, not cower away safely somewhere like some officers did."

Aragorn reflected on what Faramir had just said. "You know, my friend, he really does sound a lot like Boromir." He glanced at the book in his hand. "Do you suppose that whoever wrote this had Boromir as a base model?"

Faramir chuckled, the previous tension he had felt forgotten. "Mayhap they made the mould for Sharpe based on Boromir's." He smiled warmly at Aragorn. "Though had Boromir ever found out that he would have been impossible."

"No, he would have acted impossible to drive everyone else crazy." Aragorn decided. "Boromir had too much sense to let something like that get to his head."

"Father did not always agree with you on that opinion." Faramir chuckled. "I shall have to read that again when I have finished this one, it would be like hearing him laugh again."

Aragorn nodded and sent him a reassuring smile. Faramir handled the loss and the pain from it well, but he also treasured every reminder of his big brother. Everything that reminded him of how Boromir had laughed merrily and had always been able to bring his little brother into a good mood.

Now we shall leave them to their reading, as Faramir desperately want to finish his book so that he can begin reading Sharpe instead, so I shall insert the usual temporary ending here.

Until next week, fare you all well.

_Pronounciation Guide by Celebrion:_

_Mmmm, I like books…Books are good, read 'em people!_

_Well, French yet again… Go with the "outraaageous French áccent" again and don't pronounce the last 's' in the words. Good luck!

* * *

_

Earendil Eldar: You know that we love your reviews, whenever they drop in, in fact we love all reviews, thought we have gotten less lately, meaning we enjoy yours more than ever. The new chapter alert is indeed a very good thing, now I hope you were able to enjoy yourself.

Steelelf: You always makes us feel so honoured and special. It is a great joy to write for such loyal readers.

Lindahoyland: We enjoy the scheming as well, we like very much to write about it, and Eowyn and her stew is just a fun concept. Look for more of her stew when the next part of Desk of Dust comes out, when Celebrion stops being a lazy twit and corrects it. :)

Silver Sniper: Ah, we understand, we know all about the terror of tests. No fear, we understand fully if you are late, what we hope is that you will be able to enjoy this when the tests are bothersome.

* * *

Here I would like to thank everyone who reads my works, thank you.

Here it must also be said that in the tale "A Two Colour Chain Mail," we started the vote

based on the fact that Sean Bean and David Wenham made the perfect image of two brothers. We also got plenty of agreement on that.

So here it is, if you agree with us and think that they should be real brothers. Say so in your review. It shall be your vote. On my authors page, in the bio I shall keep score.

When the score reaches 100, they shall be declared official brothers. Then on my authors page shall be an official declaration written by Elenhin and Celebrion.

Then the truth can not be denied, they shall be brothers.


	31. Mother's Day

Author's Note: This is a bit of a joke that I wrote with the help of a friend. We thought that Faramir was skilled at different languages, and wondered just what languages he could speak.

Trying to think of as many as possible, and writing a story on each. Some languages will be from Lord of the Ring, some will not, but we will name them and where they come from. So Have no fear

This is a tribute to mother's day that we have recently experienced here. We used the Elven tongue because we thought it would be nice.

**I am sorry that this update is late, when I tried to up load I only got a server error message, so this was as fast as it could be.**

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Ring, I only borrow parts of it and shall return them as soon as I am done. Completely undamaged, as I am certain it will be impossible to see where we glued the pieces back together.

* * *

Mother's Day

Eowyn woke up because something was tickling her face. Usually that meant that Faramir was snuggling close to her. He obviously did not have any idea of how his stubble felt in any other face than his own. Not that she minded it very much, but to have that stubble tickle the soft flesh on her throat before she was fully awake was for Faramir to risk a black eye.

Now she tried to turn over, for if she punched him she would not be allowed to go back to sleep.

"Mother." Elboron's voice came.

"We have something for you." Mir squealed.

Something burrowed down at her side, and she was fairly certain that it was Faronella, her youngest daughter loved doing that. She would burrow down beside either her or Faramir, sneak in beneath the cover and then wriggle her way to the closest parent. Mir would be bouncing around until they gave up and grasped him to hold him close, if only to keep him from bouncing on them.

Faramir still claimed that a young boy bouncing in your lap was not always the best idea.

Eowyn could quickly determine that all of the children were there, and that was something unusual, since Theod and Finduella generally claimed to be too big for anything they saw as childish. Elboron was even worse, he had gotten too big for so many of those things, and was growing into a young man.

One that reminded everyone so much about Boromir that it was at times painful to Faramir, when the nobles said how he was so much like his uncle, and would no doubt follow in his uncle's footsteps Faramir wanted nothing more than to hold his son close and keep him from the soldier's life, but Elboron truly was like Boromir, and Faramir did not have the heart to keep him from what he loved, so instead he felt torn in two.

"What's going on?" She asked Faramir as she opened her eyes. His face was full of stubble, so it was he who had tickled her, well, she would take her revenge for that later.

"We thought that we should show you how much we love you and appreciate you." Faramir said as he nuzzled her throat again. Again that stubble, she cuffed him lightly over the ear to make him think of what he was doing.

"I made you a picture." Mir thrust forward a paper that was a bit wrinkled and crumbled after having suffered through his excitement at presenting it to his mother. Faronella retrieved her own picture that had been kept safe by her father to keep it from getting wrinkled and torn.

All of the children presented small gifts.

"I made a poem when I studied elvish." Theod beamed as he handed his sheet of paper over.

Eowyn was not very good at the Elven tongue but she knew enough to read it.

"Roses are read, violas are blue.

All mothers are sweet, but not as sweet as you."

Finduella presented a flower bouquet and Elboron a carving. She treasured all of the gifts. She treasured every single memory of her children, but for Theod who normally hated all studies and everything that meant he had to use book and quill, that was something that she treasured.

Faramir brought the breakfast to them and they all ate in bed, chatting happily and joking with each other, then the youngest children became restless and began using Faramir for climbing sport, he shooed them away to prepare for the day.

"So what did you think about it." Faramir asked as he held his wife close and snuggled his face into her wonderful hair.

"I think that it was most wonderful. I loved all of it. But how did you manage to get Theod to actually write something, and in Elvish?" She asked.

"He loves you so he was easily convinced." Faramir chuckled. "And then I gave him some help with the translation. So you really thought that it was wonderful?"

"I did Faramir, truly." She smiled at him. "I also think that if you want to avoid physical harm you get your stubble away from my neck."

Faramir laughed and burrowed his chin against her throat, he loved teasing her, granted, he did not love the way his jaw hurt after having connected with her fist.

Since Faramir would no doubt try to continue teasing his wife, and we love him too much to inflict too much physical harm on him, we leave of for a temporary ending here. We also hope that you all enjoyed our Mother's Day tribute.

_Pronounciation Guide by Celebrion:_

_I almost forgot about Mother's Day to be honest…But considering that I'm visiting Elenhin at the moment and is a four hour train ride away from my mother, I think that she'll understand and we'll take it next Sunday instead. Hope you enjoyed yours though!_

_Oh, and on the language this week… To translate something into Elvish you either need a good grasp on the language or a dictionary and a grammar, and since we have neither I have nothing to do here this week._

_See ya!

* * *

_

Earendil Eldar: Glad to hear that the alert worked, an alarm that does not work would be rather useless. Ugh, monitor break down, very evil, very evil. I hope that everything works fine now. Also very glad to hear that you have found your own doorway to the Kingdom of Dust, you never know where the doorway is until you find it. You shall have to tell me if you meet Faramir or Carl when you are there, we have not yet managed to encounter them, and we go there often.

Silver Sniper: I like to write both senseless humour as well as more serious. In these things where every week is something new we can switch between them when we write a new chapter. Poor you, homework, just remember to take a break from that at times and do something more fun, as for the length of the reviews, we love them no matter how short, but I will continue to claim that it is the high point of my week to know that someone likes what I have written.

Steelelf: Glad to see that we seem to have pointed you at something you might like. And thank you very much for telling me where I can still find your tale, I really loved it

Legoals's Girl: Merry and Pippin are indeed great characters, and we love Boromir as well. I most definitely like Boromir, and the way he acts with Merry and Pippin. It is one of the best things in the first movie.

Lindahoyland: Aragorn and Faramir is very funny when they do those things, tease each other and all those things. We had great fun with the Sharpe connection, and I am glad that you like it. It was funny to hear that you had been discussing it, and I might give away that there might be more of Sharpe in the future.

Shy-Shadow Reckless: Richard Sharpe is indeed very funny. We love him very much, and it is so much fun that Sean Bean plays both him and Boromir. I regret I can not see that Sharpe marathon, but we just had our own since I was introducing Celebrion to them, he was visiting me this week, and so we watched all of them, now he loves them as well.

* * *

Here I would like to thank everyone who reads my works, thank you.

Here it must also be said that in the tale "A Two Colour Chain Mail," we started the vote

based on the fact that Sean Bean and David Wenham made the perfect image of two brothers. We also got plenty of agreement on that.

So here it is, if you agree with us and think that they should be real brothers. Say so in your review. It shall be your vote. On my authors page, in the bio I shall keep score.

When the score reaches 100, they shall be declared official brothers. Then on my authors page shall be an official declaration written by Elenhin and Celebrion.

Then the truth can not be denied, they shall be brothers.


	32. Reminds of Someone I Have Never Met

Author's Note: This is a bit of a joke that I wrote with the help of a friend. We thought that Faramir was skilled at different languages, and wondered just what languages he could speak.

Trying to think of as many as possible, and writing a story on each. Some languages will be from Lord of the Ring, some will not, but we will name them and where they come from. So Have no fear

In this chapter we have aimed for Russian as well as a few other jokes as well. First we have Sharpe, whom we have established in a previous chapter, is also played by Sean Bean, we thought that it would be fun to let him meet with Carl. To add to the fun we also made a reference to Leo Tolstoy's book Anna Karenina, where Sean Bean played Count Vronsky in the movie based on the same book.

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Ring, I only borrow parts of it and shall return them as soon as I am done. Completely undamaged, as I am certain it will be impossible to see where we glued the pieces back together.

This time it will be made into two chapters, meaning that you will get the last part next week.

**Warning for the rather rouge language used by Sharpe.**

* * *

_** Reminds of Someone I Have Never Met **_

The book was lonely, very lonely. It had been left alone for a very long time now. It longed badly for others of its kind.

The book hated to lie alone all covered in dust.

* * *

Richard Sharpe had been out on a very extensive mission. One that had taken much longer than it should have. He had been away for three full months. That was three months away from the main body of the army, three months without pay.

Now at last he was back. He had already been to Wellington's tent to leave his report. Wellington had not said much of anything, Hogan had complimented him on a job well done. Yet there was no more than that 'well done Sharpe, well done' that Hogan always was saying no matter what he did. Hogan always said those things, no matter what was going on.

He had told the lads that they had done well, and suggested to them that they should do some catching up on their rum rations by getting themselves dead drunk.

They had earned the privilege. He was in fact minded to do the same thing.

Only he was a bloody officer now, and was not supposed to be getting drunk with the men.

Bloody English army, no one minded if an officer got blind drunk on fine brandy and crawled in the dirt in a drunken stupor, but if he got drunk on rum, and that with his men, that was something else.

Why then he was not a proper officer.

Then he was a disgrace for his rank.

What bloody difference did it make if you got drunk on brandy or rum, long as you did get drunk.

Bloody English army with their bloody regulations, and their bloody proper officers.

Sharpe ducked inside his tent. It was not hard to notice that he had been away for a long time. Everything in the tent was covered in dust, not that it was a lot of things. He did not have very many things in his possession. There was the Voltaire book that Harris had traded him for the Simmerson book.

It was however completely covered in dust.

Knowing well Harris and books Sharpe picked it up and wiped the dust away from the cover with a swipe of his arm.

* * *

The book would have shrieked with joy if it had been able to utter a sound, other than the thud it always made when dropped on the floor that was. It would get some company now.

* * *

Sharpe looked up, where the bloody hell was his bloody tent. He was not in it anymore, that much was soon established. What more, where the bloody hell was the bloody army?

All he could see when he looked around him was bookshelves. He had been in a few libraries. He knew what they looked like.

They looked like this, but how the bloody hell had he wound up in a damn library?

* * *

Carl came around a bookshelf, feeling most pleased with himself for having once more avoided the extensive prayers by heading into the Kingdom of Dust. If the gigantic dust motes was ever forced on route, so that the others dared to venture here he would be in much trouble.

Then he saw what was on the other side of the bookshelf, and stopped dead in his track. He had gotten well used to a visitor that might appear at any given time. There was really no surprise to suddenly have company when you had been alone the minute before. Not strange at all, but this was strange, it was a complete stranger who were standing there.

He was dressed in a green jacket with many buttons and other details. He wore leggings with leather reinforcement for riding.

What made Carl concerned was that he wore a rifle slung over his shoulder.

Had the monks sent him to shoot the dust motes? He prayed that they had not.

"Er, em, can I help you?" Carl mumbled.

The man sprung around to face him. "You can tell me where the bloody hell I am." He growled menacingly.

"Why, in the Kingdom of Dust." Carl thought that the man looked rather menacing, so it was all right that he sounded so as well.

"What bloody Kingdom?" The man growled, stepping closer to Carl.

Carl suddenly realised that if the man did not know where he were, he probably was not familiar with the term Kingdom of Dust.

"Er, not an actual Kingdom per see." Carl said nervously. "You are in a library in the Vatican in Rome."

"How the bloody hell did I get to Rome?"

Carl had no answer to that one. He also thought that despite the mans menacing appearance and speech, there was something oddly familiar about him.

"Who are you?" Carl asked attentively. This man could probably be as dangerous as Van Helsing ever was, and that with ease. Now, he had no qualms at annoying Van Helsing, he always annoyed Van Helsing, and they were still friends. He knew that no matter how annoying he was Van Helsing would never kill him, granted he had been threatening to do it a few times, but he would never actually do it. This man however, very well might.

"Who are you?" The man demanded in return. "A bloody monk?"

"Actually I am still just a Friar, and I'm Carl." Carl noted, hopefully the man would not kill him. "You remind me slightly of someone I have never met." It might not sound too logical, or might not sound logical at all, but it was the best description of it that he could come up with.

He had never seen this man before, nor anyone like him, and yet he was familiar in some way.

"Ye drunk, monk." The man accused.

"No, but you do remind me of someone, but I have never met anyone who reminds me of you."

"Bloody British army." Sharpe growled. "A bloody monk can get blind drunk, but a bloody officer can not. Bloody hell."

Here is regretfully where I have to break this tale up temporarily. Fear not, the rest of it shall be told next week. It was merely that we did not dare to put more of Sharpe's rather course language in one chapter for fear that the computer would fry from the shock of it.

* * *

Earendil Eldar: We just never could picture Faramir with only one child, so we have established a suitable number. I can really see him as the perfect father. It is a bit of a bother when the servers are down, is it not, I really strive to make updates on the promised day, and it is hard when you only get server error.

You want to know what we will do on father's day? Well, so do we. It was a spur of the moment that we did mother's day, but I suppose that we can come up with something.

Steelelf: Glad that you liked it, very glad. It is still so very nice of you to tell me, not everyone thinks like that, and I truly appreciate it. Thank You.

Silver Sniper: I enjoy writing both serious things, and pure senseless humour, but even when I am serious I seem to work humour into it, so I am glad you like it. Yes, mothers day is nice, and I even got her a gift, regretfully I have still not seen my mother since then, so it still have not reached her, oh well, she'll get it, and she does not mind.

Yes, we are quite surprised to see for ourselves how many chapters we have here, and we intend to continue for as long as we can, but lately we have been a little short of ideas, so we might be dividing more of the longer ones into separate chapters, I hope that you do not mind that, for it would indeed be fun to reach 101 chapters. We shall just have to see, shall we not?

Lindahoyland: I think that Faramir and Eowyn are great parents. I might also say that thus far I have loved every single syllable of your stories, and I might add that I am very grateful for the kind reviews you leave me.

Legolas's Girl 9: It makes me so happy to hear that. I hope that you shall enjoy this as well.

* * *

Here I would like to thank everyone who reads my works, thank you.

Here it must also be said that in the tale "A Two Colour Chain Mail," we started the vote

based on the fact that Sean Bean and David Wenham made the perfect image of two brothers. We also got plenty of agreement on that.

So here it is, if you agree with us and think that they should be real brothers. Say so in your review. It shall be your vote. On my authors page, in the bio I shall keep score.

When the score reaches 100, they shall be declared official brothers. Then on my authors page shall be an official declaration written by Elenhin and Celebrion.

Then the truth can not be denied, they shall be brothers.


	33. Remindes of Someone I Have Never Met

Author's Note: This is a bit of a joke that I wrote with the help of a friend. We thought that Faramir was skilled at different languages, and wondered just what languages he could speak.

Trying to think of as many as possible, and writing a story on each. Some languages will be from Lord of the Ring, some will not, but we will name them and where they come from. So Have no fear

In this chapter we have aimed for Russian as well as a few other jokes as well. First we have Sharpe, whom we have established in a previous chapter, is also played by Sean Bean, we thought that it would be fun to let him meet with Carl. To add to the fun we also made a reference to Leo Tolstoy's book Anna Karenina, where Sean Bean played Count Vronsky in the movie based on the same book.

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Ring, I only borrow parts of it and shall return them as soon as I am done. Completely undamaged, as I am certain it will be impossible to see where we glued the pieces back together.

This time it will be made into two chapters, meaning that you have already gotten part one, and this is the second part.

**Warning for the rather rouge language used by Sharpe.

* * *

**

_**Reminds of Someone I Have Never Met,** part two_

"I'm a Friar." Carl repeated. "Who are you?"

"My name is Sharpe. Ninety-fifth rifles." He stated.

Carl had no idea of what the ninety-fifth rifles were, and before he could figure it out he heard soft footsteps approaching them. At first he feared for the safety of his dust motes again, but then he recognized the sound of the footsteps.

"Faramir." He greeted eagerly as the other man approached them. Surely Faramir could help him with this menacing looking man.

"Greetings Carl. I see that you have a visitor." Faramir performed a perfect bow towards Sharpe. "I am Faramir, mayhap I can be of service.

Carl tried to convey to Faramir that he needed help with this one by using looks.

"Sharpe, ninety-fifth rifles." Sharpe said. No matter how stupidly this man was dressed, wearing a leather shirt, a cloak and a bow, he had a military air about him. Carl eyed Sharpe over, and so did Faramir, but more like a commander eyed over his troops. Sharpe had a feeling that this man knew what he was doing.

"Sharpe?" Faramir nodded thoughtfully. "Richard Sharpe by any chance?"

"So what is that to you?" Sharpe demanded.

"I beg pardon." Faramir said. "I have read about you, but I must admit that I had not expected to meet you here."

Carl looked at Faramir, utterly confused. "You know who he is?" He asked.

"Yes, a very brave and a very loyal soldier. Though in an army very different than the one I served in." Faramir nodded, respectfully at Sharpe.

"You are a soldier then." Sharpe stated, pleased that there was finally someone who appeared sensible.

"Not an active soldier anymore." Faramir answered. "I had to take up other duties. But I was a soldier yes, and Captain for a company that operated much as your chosen men do. Though we were called Rangers." He could not keep from grinning at Sharpe's expression.

"You're an officer." Sharpe accused.

"Not from the start." Faramir chuckled. "I became Captain by promotion." He informed Sharpe. He would not mention that he had been the son of the Steward just yet, he knew too much about how Sharpe viewed those of noble birth to do that.

"Then can you tell me how the bloody hell I wound up to be here?" Sharpe demanded.

Faramir was certain that he could make at least an educated guess. Sharpe was holding a book in his hand, a book with traces of dust on the leather cover. There was also a lot of dust residue on the sleeve of his jacket, Faramir would not be surprised if it had with the book to do.

"If you picked up that book, and then discovered that you were here, then I think I know how it happened." He said slowly.

"I picked it up to brush away the dust on it." Sharpe confirmed.

"This is going to sound very queer though." Faramir cautioned him. "Carl here and I have noticed some rather strange occurrences when some books have gotten dusty." Faramir explained carefully. "This is not the first time something like this have happened, in fact the first time I came here I wound up here in much the same fashion."

Sharpe gave him a look of disbelief.

"Just take our word for it." Carl suggested.

"What I want to know is why you were brought here." Faramir said thoughtfully. "Carl and I usually comes here because we are both scholars of sorts. But if I am not mistaken you are not overly fond of such pursuits. So what would have brought you here?"

Then another thought skittered through Faramir's mind and managed to get purchase on his reasoning. A while ago he and Aragorn had been discussing how Sharpe reminded them of Boromir in some way.

There really was something of Boromir over him. Both in looks and in general appearance. When he wanted to Boromir could look just as threatening as this man so easily did.

"He is familiar in some odd way." Carl put in.

"The bloody monk is drunk." Sharpe spat. "Goes on about me being like some bastard he has never even met."

"Friar." Carl said.

"Boromir." Faramir stated. "You remind me of Boromir."

"Doesn't make any damn sense to me." Sharpe complained.

"My brother." Faramir explained hurriedly. "He was a soldier as well. Commander of the army until he was killed. You resemble him in appearance."

"Then he would appear familiar to me because of the similarities you shared with your brother." Carl declared.

"I don't care about that. How do I get back?" Sharpe wanted to know.

Carl looked at Faramir since he himself had never done anything like this, according to him Faramir was the expert, the only one who could do it.

"I think I will be able to get you back safely." Faramir assured him. "It is really not that hard once you have done it a few times, and since I have done it before, I should be able to get you safely home. Then Faramir noted something else and gave a low chuckle.

"What?" Sharpe demanded.

"Ah, pardon. It is just that I know how you came to be here." Faramir grinned.

Sharpe gave him a look that demanded an explanation.

"As we have already stated some books tend to do odd things when they have gotten dusty." Faramir explained.

"We have a book here that is never where you put it. You can lock it up in a box and it will still be at some other place when you need it." Carl added in. Speaking of which, he had not seen that book in a while.

"It would seem that the book you had longed for the other books." Faramir noted.

"A bloody book can not long for…" Sharpe was cut short as he had made a gesture to wave Faramir in the face with the book to prove his point, he no longer held the book in his hand. "Bloody hell." The book was nowhere to be seen.

"Harris will kill me if he don't get his bloody book back." He growled.

"I do not think that we could find it at this point." Faramir said ruefully. "But I have another book I can let you have instead. A copy I had intended to give Carl, but I can get a new copy for him later, unless you mind Carl." He added.

"Why, not at all, sounds like a perfect solution to me." Carl agreed eagerly.

"Here then, take this." Faramir held out a book that was much thicker than the other one. Sharpe supposed that that was a good thing, his knowledge about books were rather limited, but Harris liked reading, and since a thicker book should have more text, it should be a good thing. "It is entitled Anna Karenina." Faramir went on. "Hopefully he shall like it."

"Is it a good book?" Sharpe asked as he took it and flipped it open.

"As always it is a matter of opinion." Faramir shrugged. "I do however think that your friend should enjoy it."

Sharpe skimmed through the first page that it opened on.

'_Although all Vronsky's inner life was absorbed in his passion,_

_his external life unalterably and inevitably followed along the_

_old accustomed lines of his social and regimental ties and_

_interests. The interests of his regiment took an important place_

_in Vronsky's life, both because he was fond of the regiment, and_

_because the regiment was fond of him. They were not only fond of_

_Vronsky in his regiment, they respected him too, and were proud_

_of him; proud that this man, with his immense wealth, his_

_brilliant education and abilities, and the path open before him_

_to every kind of success, distinction, and ambition, had_

_disregarded all that, and of all the interests of life had the_

_interests of his regiment and his comrades nearest to his heart._

_Vronsky was aware of his comrades' view of him, and in addition_

_to his liking for the life, he felt bound to keep up that_

_reputation.'_

"Bloody hell, what kind of name is that?" Sharpe exclaimed.

"It is Russian in origin, rather peculiar language." Faramir admitted. "However if your friend enjoys the French works, he should not find this too troublesome."

Carl had sneaked a peep at the page. "Vronsky." He noted. "Yes definitely Russian that."

"I'll have a new copy for you the next time I come by Carl." Faramir promised. "I do not know how it came to be in Minas Tirith to start with, and I am fairly certain that I do not wish to know it either, but I found it quite interesting. In some odd way I find that the Count Vronsky not only remind me of a few traits of my brother, but of someone else as well." He eyed Sharpe out of the corner of his eye, and Carl noted the wishful look that crossed his face. Carl assumed that the other one Faramir spoke of might very well be Sharpe, then Faramir went on. "Not much, yet there is some few resemblances. For they say there that his men loved him, and that is not the most common trait for an officer. Too many command by fear rather than by loyalty."

"Bloody fools then." Sharpe stated. "Soldiers doesn't bloody care what side the officer they kill are on if it's a bad officer. An officer who flogs and gets his men killed gets himself killed."

"My brother taught me the importance of earning your soldier's loyalty." Faramir nodded. "And when they have given it to you, you must prove yourself worthy of it and that is not easy. I shall help you get back to your men now." He nodded to Carl. "Take care until next we see each other my friend." He smiled. Then he sketched a bow to Sharpe. "If you would follow me?"

Since he did not have all that much choice seeming as Faramir was the only one who could get him back Sharpe followed him.

"Thank you for this." Sharpe gestured to the book he now held.

"No trouble." Faramir smiled as he once again saw a likeness to his brother flash past. He and Aragorn had thought that the two of them shared similarities, and they truly did. Oh, they did.

"I wish you the best." Faramir smiled.

Sharpe nodded, not very good at such formal speech from someone who was not an officer.

"The same." He settled for, that was simple enough. Then before he knew it he was back in his tent. He spun a full circle, and he truly was back in his tent. There was no doubt about it.

What was more amazing was that the men had not yet begun the heavy drinking, he was still in time to get drunk with them, and to hell with what the officers thought. They could get drunk themselves if they wanted to, he'd drink with his men.

As soon as he had given Harris the bloody book before it went missing again, who knew where a book could go of to?

* * *

I shall make a temporary ending here, as I myself need to find a book or two that might very well have sneaked off to the Kingdom of Dust when I was not looking.

Pronounciation Guide by Celebrion:

I think part of my dragon collection has snuck off there as well... I can't find my purple one, keep a look-out for it if you will?

Other than that I have (yet again) nothing to add. Until next week!

* * *

Silver Sniper: Seeing the humour of me and Celebrion we would be aiming for 101, and we will see what we can do about that. I hoped that you got every laugh you hoped for out of this one. I also hope that all the testes went well, teachers are evil. Take care now.

Lindahoyland: Is it just me who thinks that the alerts both got more confusing at the same time? Ah, I am glad that you think that I have captured the characters well, it means a lot to me. A part of our original idea for this was to mix in some other characters, but we will always get back to Aragorn sooner or later, have no fear. Also, if I am inspiring you to write, then you should know how much your kind words inspire me, it is the greatest time in the week when the reviews comes.

ForeverFaramir: I have noted the threat to kill me should I not update, and have decided to update to prevent further harm to the author of this tale. Seriously, you are so impatient, you shall just have to learn to wait like everyone else. No, I do not mean that, I just love to tease you. I hope that you enjoyed this chapter though, as my desire as always is to make people laugh.

* * *

Here I would like to thank everyone who reads my works, thank you.

Here it must also be said that in the tale "A Two Colour Chain Mail," we started the vote

based on the fact that Sean Bean and David Wenham made the perfect image of two brothers. We also got plenty of agreement on that.

So here it is, if you agree with us and think that they should be real brothers. Say so in your review. It shall be your vote. On my authors page, in the bio I shall keep score.

When the score reaches 100, they shall be declared official brothers. Then on my authors page shall be an official declaration written by Elenhin and Celebrion.

Then the truth can not be denied, they shall be brothers


	34. Remains of Russian

Author's Note: This is a bit of a joke that I wrote with the help of a friend. We thought that Faramir was skilled at different languages, and wondered just what languages he could speak.

Trying to think of as many as possible, and writing a story on each. Some languages will be from Lord of the Ring, some will not, but we will name them and where they come from. So Have no fear

In this chapter we have pretty much continued with the same joke as in the previous two chapters.

We have Carl, and we have Russian, as well as a mentioning of Sharpe and Count Vronsky, both of which are characters played by Sean Bean.

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Ring, I only borrow parts of it and shall return them as soon as I am done. Completely undamaged, as I am certain it will be impossible to see where we glued the pieces back together.

* * *

**_Remains of Russian_**

Faramir regarded the Friar before him while leaning casually against a bookshelf. He doubted that he would be discovered any time soon.

Carl just was not the kind of man who looked over his shoulder. He had a thought a little about the other man.

Carl, a Friar devoted to the service of God, and yet he cursed quite regularly. Not that Faramir did not, and he was devoted as well. Then there was Boromir, a most loyal subject, and he could curse worse than half the army put together.

It was just that Faramir had learnt that Monks sworn to this god were not allowed to curse, nor to do a few other things that he was quite certain that Carl did at times. It was why he kept insisting that he was only a Friar after all.

Not that Carl was a fraud of any kind, he just believed that as god had to be quite busy enough, there was no need for Carl to bother him during odd hours, and in a way it made sense.

Now Carl was in his Kingdom of Dust, and Faramir ducked in behind a bookshelf where he was out of sight. He had just spied movement, this once Carl was not alone. That was rather a surprise.

There was another man there, one dressed in a long leather coat and wide brimmed hat that hid most of his face in shadows.

"They usually die if you shoot them." Carl was saying in an indignant voice. "Even you should know that Van Helsing."

Faramir smiled to himself, so this was Van Helsing, he had been wondering a bit about him. The man was looking around as if he was looking for something, and it was very possible that he had sensed Faramir's presence.

"How can you stay down here?" Van Helsing demanded of Carl. "I feel as if those dust mites are just waiting for a chance to attack me." He looked around trying to see any movement.

He could not though, Van Helsing was a very mighty hunter, but Faramir was a no less mighty ranger. He knew how to avoid being seen. His cloak blended in well with the shelves around him. Carl would no doubt find it difficult to explain his presence, it was much better if Faramir was not seen at all.

"I doubt the mighty hunter fears a little dust." Carl stated. "It's more reasonable to assume that you wish to avoid the books."

Van Helsing laughed. "Whatever you chose to believe Carl, but I do not trust them. I'll see you later." Van Helsing left and Carl was left not quite alone even if Van Helsing no doubt thought he was alone.

Faramir slipped out of the shadows.

"I did not think you would be back so soon." Carl took a step back as Faramir appeared, but recovered quickly.

"Neither did I, but since I gave the book intended for you to our friend Sharpe, I thought that I should hurry back to give you your copy."

"That is very kind of you." Carl smiled as he accepted the book.

"I trust that you saw Van Helsing."

Faramir nodded. "I did not mean to spy on you, but I rather thought that if I had suddenly appeared, he would want to know how that came to be."

Carl chuckled. "I would more say that it is a good idea to keep out of the way to stay alive." He grinned wickedly. "He's a vampire hunter, but he kills most anything."

Faramir laughed. "I'll make sure to keep out of his way then. I would not like to be mistaken for a vampire I am sure."

"No you would not." Carl assured him. "He usually kills them with a stake through the heart."

"Not the most pleasant thing, no." Faramir agreed.

"So you were able to see Sharpe back?" Carl asked.

Faramir nodded. "It was not all that difficult, I am not sure whetever he will return or not though."

"I have the odd feeling that he would prefer not to." Carl said thoughtfully. "I do not think that he enjoyed books very much."

"Some men don't." Faramir agreed. "My brother certainly did not. He would much prefer fighting a battle to reading a book."

"He was rather interesting though." Carl said absently as he was flipping through the pages in the book.

"A very interesting man." Faramir agreed.

"And a very interesting book." Carl was now paying more attention to the book than to the memory of Sharpe. "Was it not this Count Vronsky that he thought so strange."

"He certainly found the name strange." Faramir grinned as he recalled what Sharpe had said about it. "But names in one culture is oft found strange in another culture."

"Very true." Carl agreed. "I must say that I find Faramir one of the stranger names I have heard."

Faramir laughed, he knew that the Friar did not mean it as an offence. "I do not think that anyone where I come from would name a child Carl either." He chuckled. "However I think that my name might seem less strange if you know the meaning of it. It is based upon two separate elvish words. Fara and mir, combined they mean 'sufficient jewel.' Does that make more sense?"

Carl nodded. "It is as you said the difference between cultures. I do know about the Russian culture, so these names are not too strange to me."

Faramir chuckled. "I know a little of it as well, but I still have to twist my tongue around to pronounce a few of these. The Count Vronsky is not the most difficult name by far in that book."

"Avery interesting character though." Carl skimmed through the page he had been glancing at before. _"After the conversation with Alexey Alexandrovitch, Vronsky went out onto the steps of the Karenins' house and stood still, with difficulty remembering where he was, and where he ought to walk or drive. He felt disgraced, humiliated, guilty, and deprived of all possibility of washing away his humiliation. He felt thrust out of the beaten track along which he had so proudly and lightly walked till then. All the habits and rules of his life that had seemed so firm, had turned out suddenly false and inapplicable."_ He read out loud. "It is a rather intriguing way of describing the acts and feelings, and it seems that the character of Vronsky is one for contemplating."

Faramir nodded. "It is hard to say whether he is honourable or not at times, but I think that he is a very honourable man, in a place where honour might at times be a burden."

"Very nicely put." Carl smiled at him. "You have a way with words."

"We who prefer scholarly pursuits before others tend to have that." Faramir mused. "Oft my brother would claim that I drove him insane by not speaking frankly. My King still complains every day that he can not understand what I am saying, and I would be forced to admit that I quite enjoy it."

Carl laughed. "Sounds like an amusing enough way to pass the time." He grinned.

"It is." Faramir admitted. "Though I am afraid I must be getting back to him now, before he wonders where I have gone off to. I trust that you shall enjoy that book."

"I rather think so as well." Carl could not wait to begin reading it.

The two men took a fond farewell, then the ranger went back to serve his King, and the Friar sat down to enjoy his book.

* * *

I also have to take leave now, regretfully not to read a nice book, though I should like to do so, but to write the next chapter that I will post next week. Since this being the usual temporary ending that is here.

_Pronounciation Guide by Celebrion:_

_Another week's gone by and sweet summer vacation has begun! Mmm, warmth and sunlight for month's ahead..._

_One thing I noticed when betaing this chapter is that when Elenhin feels lonely, her spelling's getting worse. Need to keep her in company, at least when she's writing..._

_Well, gotta get the plan moving. Tata 'til next time!

* * *

_

Earendil Eldar: I think that what priest were not allowed to speak the same way during Carl's days as they are now. Also I am beginning to fear that the Kingdom of Dust might be trying to take over the world, it does seem that way at times.

Silver Sniper: Amusing to think that I always seems to lack words to express my gratitude over your kind words every week. We love them just the same, and oh, do I know the way schools work on these things. We had a classroom above the heat generator in the cellar, and they did not turn it of, we had some serious heat problems at that school. They are evil, but old schools tend to be fun at times. One had a rather dungeon looking cellar that was fun to sneak into.

Lindahoyland: Yes, Count Vronsky was another Sean Bean character, we wrote so in the authors note, thought I know by now that you rarely take the time to read it. It is of not matter. I actually think that Aragorn might get along well with Sharpe, he gets along well with several of his commanding officers, but they must prove their ability to him. I have been watching the Sharpe movies a lot lately, and it affects my thinking over these things. I am very glad that you like it though.

Shy-Shadow Reckless: I do not think that Sharpe is the kind of man who would tell them how alike they are at the first time, but fear not, the similarity have been noted. Also, big thanks for the vote, it has been taken in into the score.

Legolas's Girl 9: Yes, our chapters does indeed tend to be weird at times. At other times I fear that they are worse than weird. We are just happy that you seem to like them like they are. Thank you.

Fred: Thank you again ever so much for all kind words and reviews. We appreciate it all very much.

* * *

Here I would like to thank everyone who reads my works, thank you.

Here it must also be said that in the tale "A Two Colour Chain Mail," we started the vote

based on the fact that Sean Bean and David Wenham made the perfect image of two brothers. We also got plenty of agreement on that.

So here it is, if you agree with us and think that they should be real brothers. Say so in your review. It shall be your vote. On my authors page, in the bio I shall keep score.

When the score reaches 100, they shall be declared official brothers. Then on my authors page shall be an official declaration written by Elenhin and Celebrion.

Then the truth can not be denied, they shall be brothers


	35. The United Kingdom of Dust

Author's Note: This is a bit of a joke that I wrote with the help of a friend. We thought that Faramir was skilled at different languages, and wondered just what languages he could speak.

Trying to think of as many as possible, and writing a story on each. Some languages will be from Lord of the Ring, some will not, but we will name them and where they come from. So Have no fear

Here we have attempted two things, two comply with the request of Aragorn and Carl meeting, and to make Greek letters appear on the page. If it do not work, please pardon us, we tried. Also, should our Greek be faulty, please pardon us as well.

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Ring, I only borrow parts of it and shall return them as soon as I am done. Completely undamaged, as I am certain it will be impossible to see where we glued the pieces back together.

* * *

_**The United Kingdom of Dust**_

Faramir whistled cheerfully as he pushed open the heavy wooden doors to the library. For once he was allowed to be there for as long as he could ever want to.

Eowyn had travelled to Rohan, to visit where her brother, and she had told him that she would stay there for some time. She missed her brother dearly. Since Arwen had gone with her, claiming that it would be nice with the change, Aragorn had decided that the two of them took the opportunity for some free time.

Two full weeks when they would deal with nothing more than what was strictly necessary. Could life be any better than that?

He headed for the far side of the library, the corner where almost never anyone ventured. The one corner in the library where there was shelf after shelf with tomes that he had not yet gotten the opportunity to read. He could not wait to slip one of them from its snug place and start devouring it.

Aragorn had said that he would come and join him, He would be along shortly after a detour to the kitchen.

Aragorn had claimed that if they were to enjoy their free time they might as well do it properly, and saying so he had decided to free up some larder space for the cooks by bringing them some refreshments.

Now Faramir ventured deep into the library, past the shelves where most stopped, only to stop and lean against a massive shelf. Taking in the scene before him with an amused smile.

There, seated at a table sat Friar Carl, deeply engrossed in a heavy tome. He looked as if the outside world did not exist to him. at least not before he sensed Faramir's eyes on him and he looked up.

Smiling as he recognized his friend.

"Greetings to you my friend." Faramir smiled warmly. Allowing the bookshelf to stand on its own once more and heading over to the table.

"Hello." Carl nodded. "This is becoming quite frequent I must say, I think that I rather like it."

Faramir smiled. "Indeed, I enjoy it much as well. Though you shall have to forgive me for saying I was surprised to see you here."

"Why ever would you?" Carl gave him a peculiar look. "I have certainly not intended to go anywhere. I hate travelling." He gave a shudder. "All those vile monsters trying to kill you. Van Helsing might not mind it, but I most certainly do."

"Not here." Faramir laughed. "The most dangerous monster you shall find here is that giant dust mite that is always sneaking around, and seeing how you are used to ones just as big, I doubt you would fear it. Though, indeed you will have had to travel to come here. You have finally come to Minas Tirith my friend."

"Minas Tirith." Carl gave a startled gasp and looked around himself. It was indeed not the library in the Vatican. It was not, he just could not deny that. Even if it was temping to try.

"Aye." Faramir nodded. "Though I am guessing now that it was not intentional. How did you come to be here?"

Carl looked around himself again, nervously. "I, don't know." He admitted in a slightly terrified tone.

"No need to fear my friend." Faramir smiled. "I assure you that I can get you back safely again."

Cark nodded, he had every faith in his friend, but it was still unerring. He preferred to go somewhere intentional, now he understood why Sharpe had been so upset about it.

"This, is interesting though." He noted as he looked around again, this time with more curiosity.

Faramir nodded. "It is about to become more so, my King and friend is on his way here, and I fear that the concept of our dear _Kingdom of Dust_ might be one he would find it difficult to fully comprehend. Since the land here badly needs its King I would pray that we do not share the details with him."

Carl nodded in agreement, he suspected that it might be somewhat like trying to explain it to Van Helsing, he would either laugh at you or, he would most likely decided that you had gone crazy. He might even decide to take action about it. He did not wish for his friend to be banned from the library because the King did not believe the tale he was told.

"Should I leave before he gets here then?" Carl asked. He would rather stay for a moment, but he would not want to risk anything either.

"No, please stay." Faramir smiled. "He shall have naught against it, he has many time claimed to be curious about whom it is that possesses as much knowledge as I do. He has many times come to ask me for things."

Carl nodded again, he could easily see how the King would be curious about that.

Both of them now heard the heavy doors at the far end of the library open and close.

"That would be him." Faramir noted with a smile, unless it is the dust mites trying to escape before he comes." Faramir shook his head in a rueful manner. "I fear that my lord does not see the service they serve as guards to this Kingdom, instead he keep seeking to slay them."

"I keep having the same trouble with Van Helsing." Carl smiled. "He seems to think that they are monsters and need to be slain."

"Faramir." Aragorn's voice came from near the entrance.

"Over here my Lord." Faramir called back. "Where the dust mites are quivering with fear of your approach. Pray tell me that you did not come to slay them but left your sword outside." Faramir was sure not how Carl felt about nobility, but it would do no harm to let him know that the King was a man that could be joked with.

"One day I shall indeed slay them." Aragorn came into view. "But not this day so you may tell them that they are safe for now. You however I am considering dispatching of. Will you not introduce me to your friend."

Faramir stood and so Carl did as well, he had not really dealt with that kind of nobility before, Dracula surely did not count. So he found it safest to obey Faramir's lead lest he offend in some way.

"My Lord, this is Friar Carl, a dear friend of mine who have many times helped me with his knowledge of languages." Faramir sketched a small bow, and Carl bent his head, he was not really used to bowing.

"Carl, this is my King, and also my friend Aragorn." Again Faramir sketched the bow, and this time Aragorn inclined his head.

Faramir suspecting that Carl felt rather nervous about the royal part of it all spoke again to assure him. "Now that we have all been introduced, may I suggest that we set formality aside in favour of friendship."

"A sound idea." Aragorn said with a smile. "All the bowing and other nonsense some feel obliged to is just bothersome. Even if some does not seem to see that ." He added with a pointed look at Faramir, who pointedly ignored it.

Carl had been thinking that there was indeed a royal air over Aragorn, he was a King, in the true meaning of the word, and yet he seemed to so kind. Carl found that he was not as nervous anymore, for there seemed no need for it.

They seated themselves at the table again, and Aragorn took out a paper.

"Faramir, would you mind taking a look at this." He said. "It looks like that other thing you were writing. I found it in the back of that book, the one about that soldier Sharpe." As he uttered the name of the soldier Carl just stared at him, Faramir could hardly control his amusement.

Aragorn gave them both questioning looks, but Faramir waved it away.

"Do you have any idea of what it is?" He asked, no need to reveal that the two of them had met Sharpe.

"I think that it is a list of further titles." Aragorn told him. "But I can not really tell."

Carl leaned over and read it as the same time as Faramir.

"It is indeed." Faramir smiled at the King. "Let us see here what it says." He straightened the paper out in front of him.

"





"

"How do they even manage to pronounce it?" Aragorn shook his head in confusion.

"It is not so hard." Faramir smiled and exchanged an amused look with Carl.

"Then please tell me what it means." Aragorn pleaded.

"Sharpe's Rifles, Sharpe's Company, Sharpe's Enemy and Sharpe's Sword." Faramir smiled and Carl nodded in agreement.

"Thank you." Aragorn told him. "Though why it would be written in that language is more than I can understand."

"Myself I have learnt not to ask why?" Carl said with a small smile.

"True I suppose." Aragorn agreed with a small nod as he began to set the refreshments he had brought on the table. "I am still grateful though." They were one goblet short since he had not anticipated anyone else, but he and Faramir had no problem with sharing.

It was much later, after he had left the two friends alone that Aragorn again saw Faramir. He had left them alone because it seemed like they did not see each other all that often, but now Faramir had written down the translation for the Greek and had brought it to his friend.

"I was thinking about something." Aragorn smiled as he ran his eye over his friend, taking in his appearance. "The two of you are very much like each other."

"You mean of course that we both are fascinated by languages?" Faramir assumed.

"There is something else as well." Aragorn stroked his chin thoughtfully. "I am not sure, but in some way you even look alike to one another."

"I fear that I do not agree my Lord." Faramir smiled. He and Carl shared nothing beyond their enjoyment for languages. He was not quite sure of what had given Aragorn that idea. It was however not the strangest thing that the King had come up with either. He was, as a matter of fact, still insisting that his desk seemed to be multiplying papers, and Faramir had yet to hear him say anything more strange than that.

He was however quite certain that with time he would.

Now we shall end this here before Faramir finds out just exactly what strange things his friend and King might say, for if he did this now, what then would we use for later chapters pray tell? Thus I found it safest to put a temporary ending here.

Also Celebrion my dear friend, as I was again lonely I have no doubt that there shall be many errors for you to sweat over. Would you however be so kind and do me a favour though, when you have corrected it, as you do so well I might add, and send it back in a mail, would you please then _attach_ it to the mail.

Thank you, it shall be a pleasure to see you all next week.

_Pronounciation Guide by Celebrion:_

_Not so, gwathel-nin, relatively few this week. I may need to revise my theory on that particular part of your insanity..._

_Well, dear friends, I for once stand clueless! I have no idea of how to pronounce Greek letters. (As I hope it shows up in, it does in this document!)_

_Add my thanks to Elenhin's, it's been a true pleasure reading your reviews!

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_

Earendil Eldar: Yes, the Kingdom of Dust is starting to take over the world most defiantly. As for the rest, who is Carl not rubbing off on, he is really amusing to say the least. I would also say that I think you work to much and enjoy yourself to little, now go and enjoy yourself. Carl commands it, in fact, he wants to go with you.

Silver Sniper: Well my experience says that all teachers have a knack for doing those things. They tend to think that something is good just because they say it is good. How much snow does it take for a school to close? I have been going to school when there is three feet on the ground, and more, but over here that is not all that much. I hope you get a nice summer vacation though.

Steelelf: Well, we had Aragorn and Carl here, so who knows. In the Kingdom of Dust anything might happen.

Legolas's Girl 9: Van Helsing is a very good movie according to me, and since both Carl and Faramir are played by the same actor, it is perfect for making fun off.

Lindahoyland: Well, we did not take Aragorn to the Kingdom of Dust, but I hope that you found this acceptable. Yes, it seems that we are aiming for one hundred and one chapters, but if we manage remains to see.

Tempest Destiny: I am very glad that you like this, and I am sorry if we can not always make the chapters longer, I just write them like the ideas comes to me. Also, thank you very much for the vote, we appreciate it. About your idea, I am working on it, but since no one really comes out of the books, the book just dragged Sharpe along with it, it needs some thinking. We shall see what we can come up with however.

Shy-Shadow Reckless: Much credit for you for reading and remembering. We are aware that there are parts here and there that is out of characters, but since we are doing a lot of experimenting, those things happen. We shall see what we can do about getting more of them together, but that is for later.

* * *

Here I would like to thank everyone who reads my works, thank you.

Here it must also be said that in the tale "A Two Colour Chain Mail," we started the vote

based on the fact that Sean Bean and David Wenham made the perfect image of two brothers. We also got plenty of agreement on that.

So here it is, if you agree with us and think that they should be real brothers. Say so in your review. It shall be your vote. On my authors page, in the bio I shall keep score.

When the score reaches 100, they shall be declared official brothers. Then on my authors page shall be an official declaration written by Elenhin and Celebrion.

Then the truth can not be denied, they shall be brothers.


	36. Chastise the Chaste

Author's Note: This is a bit of a joke that I wrote with the help of a friend. We thought that Faramir was skilled at different languages, and wondered just what languages he could speak.

Trying to think of as many as possible, and writing a story on each. Some languages will be from Lord of the Ring, some will not, but we will name them and where they come from. So Have no fear

The Lord Demeni is back as we seem to have readers who enjoy his constant confusion. Thanks to Fred and a good idea, I re wrote a chapter I had written earlier, and we shall see how you all like it.

**Also, apologies to all from us, it appears that the page did not support Greek letters, and so our fine letter showed only as boxes. We are sorry for that.**

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Ring, I only borrow parts of it and shall return them as soon as I am done. Completely undamaged, as I am certain it will be impossible to see where we glued the pieces back together.

* * *

**_Chastise the Chaste_**

The Lord Demeni was a good natured Lord, not ambitious but instead content with this lot in life. He had a lovely wife, and a litter of offspring. As well as one oldest son that was his heir.

He was middle aged and had a quite generous waist line. It was said that he had as much kindness as belly when it came to most things.

He was likable enough, though his greatest talent was to get things wrong, and confuse one thing for another, and usually completely different thing. It usually guaranteed that life would not become too dull, as he could make many most interesting suggestions.

Faramir himself had been quite fearful of his own safety after the good Lord had come with one of his more interesting suggestions. This time he considered himself safe enough, even after he had heard the proffered solution, yet how would not every soldier in the army have balked if they had heard his suggestion as it was first uttered.

They would not have had one single soldier left in the entire army Faramir mused as he considered the utter insanity that could come from an ordinary report and a Lord that was confused to a level far above the ordinary.

To think that such complicated matters could rise from such a common occurrence as soldiers that had been on leave in a village.

* * *

The soldiers that were standing on the village street, eyeing the females passing by, something that is rather common for soldiers to do. It was usually a harmless pastime. Something that the women rarely objected to.

What they complained about were the whistles, the suggestions, and the gestures combined with an offer for a pleasant time, if they were to follow the soldiers to a private spot of their choosing.

Where they complained about it was the local garrison's commander. For some strange reason that the soldiers were unable to figure out, not that they did not try, the commander rather did not like it.

It was not that he minded the fact that there had been complaints among the civilians, there always were. What had him upset was the fact that his soldiers had acted in a way that gave the civilians due reason to complain.

Since complaining had worked so well for the civilians he decided that he ought to try the same course of action, complaint. Yet complaining to the local garrison's commander would do no good, even if it had not been himself. Since he obviously could not deal with the problem, no other commander would have been able to do it.

Instead he decided to find someone in a slightly higher position to complain to. The man whom received the letter decided that if complaining had worked so well this far, he could do it as well. So he found someone in just a little higher position to complain to, and as the ladder of complaints went steeply upwards the letter soon found itself on a desk, as anything written on paper tends to do eventually.

However on this desk it was not ignored as everything written in three copies tends to be. Instead it was read by the Steward of Gondor. Whom rather agreed with the commander of the garrison. Soldiers were not supposed to act that way.

Since he wanted something done about it, something that might encourage other soldiers _not _to do the same thing, and since it was time for Council he decided that for once the meetings might be useful. Then the King could issue a formal command to deal with a situation that preferably already should have been dealt with.

During the Council meeting he read the letter aloud for them, then explained exactly what it meant.

"Such behaviour in soldiers can not be accepted," Aragorn agreed. "The soldiers are there to make the people feel safe, not the opposite."

"My Lord. We can not order the men not to look at the women," Lord Barladro frowned. "When the women walk around on the streets the men can not avoid seeing them."

"It is not the fact that soldiers are looking at women that is the problem," Faramir pointed out. "It is the part about insulting them, and trying to do more than just looking. Even if the women are walking around on the streets the men can help where they have their hands."

"I am sure the report has been exaggerated," the Lord objected.

"Yet there was enough cause to write a report," the King frowned. "We must decide on a course of action against it. If it is a small problem in one place, it might be a bigger problem somewhere else."

"I agree," Lord Demeni informed the others. "This kind of behaviour is simply not acceptable by soldiers."

"So what should be done about it?" Faramir asked. "We need to make sure that no one even thinks about touching the women uninvited."

Lord Demeni spoke again. "I say that we chastice the soldiers that are responsible for the complaint."

"All of them? We can not do that." Aragorn tried to estimate the uproar that it would cause.

"Gondor has punished soldiers for wrong doings before," Lord Demeni objected. "Several times has flogging been dealt in order to set the men straight."

"I believe that he means _chastise_, my Lord," Faramir muttered with an amused smile. "And not that we should force Gondor's entire army into chastity."

"I sure hope so." Aragorn could not help but squirm under the thought.

"Of course the ones responsible shall be punished," Faramir said. "But we will also want to make sure that it ends. That is the difficult part."

"Mayhap we could cancel their leave," Aragorn suggested. "Take the time where they had leave due and give them some task to perform instead." He turned to Faramir. "Our good Lord has gotten confused again," he whispered.

"This was a good one," Faramir agreed in a whisper. "He had no idea at what he was suggesting."

After this statement the discussion was continued. Until a letter was sent with instructions for the commanders of the garrisons. Instructions about how said matter should be dealt with.

The civilians were not entirely sure about how the military progressed about it, but they ceased complaining about the soldiers, as the soldiers ceased the behaviour that they had complained about.

Therefore everyone was happy, until the next chapter of this tale was doled out. Then dread began to form in their hearts, as it should in your's as well. MUHHAHHAHHAH. (Evil laughter because I already know about the next chapter.)

Until then, thanks for reading.

_Pronounciation Guide by Celebrion:_

_I sure hope they didn't go through with his lordship's proposal, an army of eunuchs isn't as efficient as one left ... intact, so to speak..._

_But it's a solution as good as any I suppose, without their , umm, family joy, there shouldn't be much need to go after women... Eww, let's leave this and wait 'til we get the promised tale of horror and abominations next week...

* * *

_

Earendil Eldar: I agree, take that three day weekend and rest for all that it is worth. Also, would anyone in their right mind these guys going along, if I were you, I would invite them to start with, take care now.

frodo16424: We decided to have them meet as many seemed to want that, yes, it was unfortunate that the Greek did now show. It worked in the preview of the chapter, but not in the posting. We shall keep it in mind for later though, if we ever try the same thing again.

Lindahoyland: It is not that Aragorn is not smart enough to understand. It is just that Aragorn does not fully comprehend the Kingdom of Dust, and Faramir does not fully comprehend his desk. So the two of them are being careful about it around each other. Some day we might make something more out of it.

If I get stuck without a beta, I will be sure to remember you. I am very grateful for the offer, and I just love Burden of Guilt.

Steelelf: It really was cool, was it not.

Legolas's Girl 9: David Wenham plays the Friar Carl in the movie Van Helsing. I think that it is a very good movie and highly recommend it, if you ever find a way to Middle Earth, please let me know where it can be found.

Silver Sniper: Considering how much everyone seems to have loved it, we shall have to do something on it again some time. It should prove popular. Again, we are sorry that the Greek did not show up, we thought it was worth a try though. I am glad that none seemed to be offended by it at least. I am glad that you are finally free of school. I hope that you really enjoy your holiday.

* * *

Here I would like to thank everyone who reads my works, thank you.

Here it must also be said that in the tale "A Two Colour Chain Mail," we started the vote

based on the fact that Sean Bean and David Wenham made the perfect image of two brothers. We also got plenty of agreement on that.

So here it is, if you agree with us and think that they should be real brothers. Say so in your review. It shall be your vote. On my authors page, in the bio I shall keep score.

When the score reaches 100, they shall be declared official brothers. Then on my authors page shall be an official declaration written by Elenhin and Celebrion.

Then the truth can not be denied, they shall be brothers.


	37. Spontaneous Spanish

Author's Note: This is a bit of a joke that I wrote with the help of a friend. We thought that Faramir was skilled at different languages, and wondered just what languages he could speak.

Trying to think of as many as possible, and writing a story on each. Some languages will be from Lord of the Ring, some will not, but we will name them and where they come from. So Have no fear

This time we had some fun with the movie Hidalgo, staring our dear Aragorn. We thought that there was no reason he should get away without having another one of his roles mentioned.

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Ring, I only borrow parts of it and shall return them as soon as I am done. Completely undamaged, as I am certain it will be impossible to see where we glued the pieces back together.

* * *

_**Spontaneous Spanish**_

Faramir smiled as he saw Aragorn enter the stable. The older man was about to get a surprise. For the first thing Faramir was back one week before he had planned, and for the second, Aragorn would surely be surprised over his travel companion.

He rubbed the nose of his horse lovingly. It was a youthful stallion. Being married to Eowyn meant that he now had more than one horse. Eowyn was raising a whole herd of them.

The stallion was one of the first ones born in their new home, and Eowyn had gifted it to him. He loved the horse, it had an odd sense of humour and loyalty combined. At some times it felt as if he had a Boromir on four legs.

The horse loved to hide brushes and hoof picks, and everything from Faramir, and then he would not give them back until Faramir had routinely looked for them.

Faramir was however more curious about what Aragorn would say about the even younger stallion, the fowl of just three years that he had with him as well. Not a plain brown or grey one that horse, it was splotched with brown and white. Faramir thought that it looked as if they had run out of brown when they coloured the fur, and that the brown only covered half of it as a result.

It was not even splotches either, one hind leg was brown, and the other white, there was one brown patch of brown on the back and up the neck, but it was a beautiful horse. One very proud and most magnificent.

"Greetings Faramir." Aragorn smiled. The sound of those sometimes beautiful and sometimes annoying silver trumpets had alerted him to the fact that his Steward had returned. So he had decided to go down and meet him.

"Greetings sire." Since it was the first meeting since he came back, and since he had missed not being able to tease his lord, Faramir made a deep and formal bow. The kind that drove Aragorn near insane because it did not seem possible to do it, and not overbalance.

Faramir however performed it to perfection, and at the same time noted how a brush was dropped into the hay to the right of his stallion. The best thing he had ever done with that horse was to name it Pixie, for it had the most pixie sense of humour he had ever seen in a horse.

"Faramir." Aragorn groaned. "I came to meet you here to escape all that accursed bowing."

"You know I had to do that though." Faramir smiled.

"I know, but if you do it again I shall take swift revenge." Aragorn promised. "Do you want help curing that one?" He motioned to the other horse.

"I would not object." Faramir smiled, it was time to find the missing brush. He began looking under the horse, lifting one hoof at a time. By now he had learnt how he was supposed to look. Once he had looked under the forth and last hoof he sighed heavily.

"Where have you made away with the brush you wretched scarecrow?" He demanded.

Aragorn gave him a peculiar look. "Faramir, are you feeling well?" He asked uncertainly.

"Aye, as soon as that wretched creature hands me back my brush. "Faramir stated, opening the mouth of his horse and looking there, that was the cue for the horse to _find_ the brush when Faramir looked away. "Thank you." Faramir said as he scratched behind an ear.

He turned back to Aragorn. "Someone thought that it was a funny game." He smiled. "He is a playful one."

"Ah, I think that I understand then." Aragorn smiled as he took up a brush and started on the other horse.

"How come you brought this one along?" He asked. He had not seen it before, and Faramir and Eowyn rarely brought more horses than the ones they rode. Unless it was for something special. "Seems to be too young to be broken in."

"That one will only have one master." Faramir agreed. "So you'll have to do that yourself."

Aragorn stared at him surprised.

"He is a gift from Eowyn." Faramir smiled. "She asked me to bring him since she would be late. She have not even named him yet."

"He is wonderful." Aragorn said as he petted the slim neck, it was truly a remarkable looking young horse.

"We thought that he would fit you." Faramir chuckled. "So what is the name now?"

Aragorn thought about it for a moment. "Hidalgo." He said thoughtfully. It was an odd sounding name, but it was an odd looking horse as well. He did not think that the stallion would ever grow to a great size, but he already had the promise of great strength.

"Very fitting name." Faramir nodded. "He is that, he truly is."

"What?" Aragorn asked confused.

Faramir eyed him and smiled as there was a gentle tug at his sleeve. Apparently he had been lacking at attention, unless he saw to that error there would be a gentle bite next. After that, you had better pay the mount some attention. He began brushing his horses slender flanks again. "Hidalgo, meaning pure blood. I just meant that that little fellow really is of pure blood."

"I did not know it meant anything." Aragorn nodded. It really did seem to fit him though. Both the name and the translation that it obviously had. "I must really thank Eowyn for him, he is truly magnificent."

"He should be." Faramir chuckled. "T'was Eomer's stallion who took a liking for one of the mares. That little fellow there is of pure blood, royal as well seeming as how the father belongs to the King of Rohan. Eomer left him too close to the mares, and then we had this nice fowl."

"Eomer forgot to tie his horse up?" Aragorn sniggered.

Faramir shook his head. "Eomer's horse did not care that he was tied up." He chuckled. "He did not particularly care about the fence either. None of us mind though, there are a few other fowls that we think hail from him as well, but this one is the only one we are sure of."

Aragorn nodded, it was sometimes hard to know the parentage of these offspring's, he did not really care either. This young colt was wonderful, and he felt as if he could hardly wait until it was time to break it in and he could ride it. He felt as if he belonged with the horse in some odd way.

Now I am afraid that I need to put a temporary ending here before I accidentally write a spoiler for the Hidalgo movie, which is not my intent. Until the next week, fare ye all well.

Pronounciation Guide by Celebrion:

Horses can be evil sometimes... and they're big... Expecially mearas...

But Hidalgo is a good film, even though a horse plays one of the main

characters... Go see it!

Well, this guide sees no purpose this week, so tata!

* * *

Earendil Eldar: I would guess that this is not the first time the soldiers of Gondor have been saved from some discomfort or other by Faramir's sharp wit. I do however agree with you, they are lucky to have him. I might also add that the ending laughter was in general terms.

Silver Sniper: The wait is over, the chapter is here. I am glad you like the last chapter, before I somehow got the impression that the Lord Demeni was not very popular, it appears that he actually was now, so there should be more of him.

Legolas's Girl 9: Stonehenge is at least a nice place, and if the Holy Grail is there, Indiana Jones should not be far away. Maybe you could get him to help?

Steelelf: If it was to easy, would it really be fun? Also, yes, another chapter. It tends to happen every time I update.

Lindahoyland: I know that play, but see, those women denied their men to make them stop fighting. Since this would deny the men, I am afraid they would have little else to do but fight. Still, it might work in some way. Indeed I loved your last chapter, as I have loved your every chapter, and I am just as happy for your kind words as you seem to be over mine.

Shy-Shadow Reckless: Yes, he is amusing, is he not? If you laughed, then I have succeeded. I always strive to make my readers laugh at least once during each chapter. Hopefully from top to bottom, then I would really have succeeded.

* * *

Here I would like to thank everyone who reads my works, thank you.

Here it must also be said that in the tale "A Two Colour Chain Mail," we started the vote

based on the fact that Sean Bean and David Wenham made the perfect image of two brothers. We also got plenty of agreement on that.

So here it is, if you agree with us and think that they should be real brothers. Say so in your review. It shall be your vote. On my authors page, in the bio I shall keep score.

When the score reaches 100, they shall be declared official brothers. Then on my authors page shall be an official declaration written by Elenhin and Celebrion.

Then the truth can not be denied, they shall be brothers.


	38. Sharpe’s soldier, part one

Author's Note: This is a bit of a joke that I wrote with the help of a friend. We thought that Faramir was skilled at different languages, and wondered just what languages he could speak.

Trying to think of as many as possible, and writing a story on each. Some languages will be from Lord of the Ring, some will not, but we will name them and where they come from. So Have no fear

Sharpe is back, he sort of made me write him into another chapter, and since he can be very insistent when he wants to, I wrote him in. Thanks goes to Earendil Eldar for help with the translation. The poem used is one I have written myself.

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Ring, I only borrow parts of it and shall return them as soon as I am done. Completely undamaged, as I am certain it will be impossible to see where we glued the pieces back together.

**This chapter will be divided into two parts, this is part one, and part two will come next week.

* * *

**

_**Sharpe's soldier**_

What the bloody hell was wrong with the bloody British army, Sharpe wanted to know. Bloody bastards, all of them buggers. They called themselves officers and gentlemen, but they sure as bloody hell did not act that way.

They used dirty tricks, so they did.

Not only did they call him to get to the other end of the bloody camp on just a moment's notice, but then they reprimanded him for being late, before telling him to wait.

It was the old army routine of 'hurry up and wait' all over again. He hated it, he had always hated it, but when he was just a common soldier he could have stretched out on the ground. Not now though, no, now he had to act like a bloody proper officer.

All of them buggers and their damned proper officers, they could get themselves blown to Kingdom come for all he cared. He was a proper bastard, and it was bloody fine with him, so the bloody lot of them should just stop being so shocked by it.

His mother had been a whore, so it made sense to assume that his father was a customer. He certainly could not imagine any other way a whore would end up with a bastard. He had been born in the gutter, and only luck had seen him alive long enough to be dumped outside the doors to the foundling home.

Many bastard children to whores were drowned in the nearest rain barrel as soon as they uttered their first wail. Why he had been spared that fate he would never know. No one cared much about bastard brats, the police certainly did not. They would not send a whore to the gallows because she drowned her bastard like an unwanted litter of kittens. They bloody well could have just thrown him into the river too, it would spare them having to pick up his body out of the barrel, only to then have to throw it into the river.

Rivers was a very effective way to get rid of dead bodies and unwanted bastards.

He was a bastard born, and so he was always called, a mean bastard in the foundling home when he fought with the other orphaned brats. A lucky bastard when he ran from the foundling home and ran wild in the gin houses. When he were made to guess on the outcome of the fights, and learned the art of picking locks. A bloody bastard when he first joined into the army and fought in India. Then a proper bastard when he was made officer. When his chosen men understood that he was a there, and he intended to stay there, and they had better shut up and follow orders.

You learned to fight in the gutters. You learned to fight for yourself, because if you did not, you got killed. It was a fine way to learn, and you did, every dirty trick in the book. As well as quite a few that was too dirty even to put there.

All those bloody fine proper officers, they looked down on him, all of them did. They died and he lived, for he could fight. It should have given them a hint or two, but they just never where smart enough to understand it, so there he was, hurrying up and waiting.

They did not even have the decency to make him wait in a nice place, no, they showed him into a library and made him wait there.

What the bloody hell was he supposed to do in a library, not much one could do there. Not unless you were like Harris, he mused as he pulled out a book to look at it. Then put it back again. Or that bloody monk and his friend, the one that at least was a soldier. He thought about them as he pulled out another book. They would most certainly enjoy themselves there. He chuckled as he thought about them.

Then he felt suddenly suspicious, why had it suddenly felt as if the world suddenly slid a few meters to the right and then back again. He was pretty sure that the world was not supposed that. Also, why was the shelves suddenly oak, and where the bloody hell had that stone pillar come from. There had been none in the library when he entered, that much was certain.

He looked around with as much a suspicion that he felt, something was not right, something was definitely not right. Before he had been alone there, now he was not. There was a man sitting at a table that must have gotten there the same way as the stone pillar. For it certainly had not been there before.

The man had shoulder length hair that fell around his face, he was sitting with one hand on the book in front of him, the other elbow on the table and his chin supported in his hand, gazing at Sharpe curiously.

Most men would have reacted by now, wanted to know how he had gotten there. This man was just watching him with a keen interest.

"How the bloody hell does that bloody thing happen all the time?" Sharpe demanded glaring at Faramir.

"I am beginning to have a fair understanding of it." Faramir noted. "How it comes that you keep winding up here, I have no idea."

"It's bloody annoying I can tell you that." Sharpe growled.

"Maybe you have a tendency to pick up the wrong book." Faramir nodded towards the book that Sharpe held in his hand. "Certain books seems to be drawn here."

With an angry glare Sharpe tossed the book onto the table beside Faramir. "Can stay here for all I care. I've no use for books anyway."

"You both look like my brother, and sound like him." Faramir shook his head ruefully. "T'is a shame that he is not here now, for I think that he would have been a soldier to your liking."

"Wasn't he one of them bloody proper officers?" Sharpe demanded. He was annoyed and yet curious. There was something strange about this man. He was a damned scribbler to be sure, but those calluses on his hands did not come from a book or a pen. He was gentle in his manners, and yet there was a an air about him that made Sharpe deem him a worthy soldier.

Also, he spoke like all of them buggers who called themselves gentlemen, but he also acted like one.

He had not frowned over Sharpe even once, not as much as one disgusted look at muddy clothes. Sharpe would have thought him to be a great asset in the battle against them bloody Frogs.

"Where's he now then?" Sharpe asked.

"Boromir died in the war." Faramir gave him a sad look. "He was alone and badly outnumbered. He died to protect two others, two who could not fight for themselves. He was a great soldier though, even if he was an officer. I think that you would have liked him. For if anyone ever would have put his feet up on the dinning table in the King's Hall. Then it would have been Boromir."

"I don't care much about 'em royalty." Sharpe sneered. "No brain to go between them. Think they know all about war, all they do is getting soldiers killed, the lot of them."

"There are exceptions." Faramir said softly. "I would follow my King into battle, and trust him not to risk any lives in vain. Yet he have fought as a mere soldier himself. We have an different army than you have my friend, and we fight a different enemy. Boromir though, could look like the perfect gentleman if he should wish to, sit at the high table and you would have thought he was born noble. Then he could go to the barracks and be just as at home there. Downing ale after ale with them, and tell every dirty joke that was ever made. It think that you would have liked him, because you remind me so very much about him in so many ways."

"They say that soldiers are all alike." Sharpe shrugged.

"And we both know that it is not true. We both know how wrong they are." Faramir pointed out. "Aye, if you stand before an army, you will see all of them in their armour and their uniform, and you won't see anything on one man that you do not see on the rest. They will look identical then. Yet, take your chosen men, there is nothing identical about them. They are all different from each other."

Sharpe nodded. "That's why we are chosen men." He grinned. "No one like us in the entire bloody army."

"And we had our Rangers." Faramir nodded. "I think that every army has an elite troop of some sort. Even the Greek had. Achilles and Odysseus."

"Never heard of them buggers." Sharpe frowned.

"They are from a great literate work." Faramir explained. "You shall have to excuse me for bringing books into it, but it is a very well known work. You had a scribbler in your troop, did you not."

"Aye, Harris. Always reading them bloody Frog books and all." Sharpe nodded. "He'll know what book them buggers wrote."

Faramir hid an amused smile, here was someone who was as ignorant of books as his brother had always been.

"They did not write the book, they were in it." He explained. "Achilles was said to be the greatest fighter of all times. The one who could not be defeated. He was in the end of course, he fell in love and searched through the burning city to find his beloved. He was shot then. Killed by a young wimp who's brother he had killed. Odysseus was a great King, one who fought along side his men in every battle. He was also a great tactician, it was he who made the Trojan horse. The one that allowed them to take Troy."

"How can a bloody horse let you win?" Sharpe demanded.

He wanted to know, and Faramir thought that was a good thing. "It was a wooden horse." He explained.

"A bloody wooden horse. Wouldn't be of any damn use." Sharpe spat.

Faramir grinned amused, this was so much like trying to tell Boromir about these things. "They built a great wooden horse, one that was hollow, then they packed up on their ships and pretended to leave the city, leaving the horse as a sacrifice to the gods. The Trojans took it into their city to show that they had been victorious."

"You mean to say that they were not?" Sharpe figured that if the enemy packed up and left you had won.

Faramir shook his head. "They had only sailed out of sight. They returned. The horse was filled with soldiers, and when the darkness fell they excited the horse and opened the city gates. The city was taken before they had time to react. Odysseus would not fight battles that would only cost him soldiers and give him no gain, but he was very skilled in ways to win without losing much men. He was a great leader and a great King."

"Sounds like a decent man." Sharpe admitted. "What army did he fight for you said?"

Faramir could not help but smile. "Ask Harris about Odysseus and he shall tell you I am certain." He grinned.

"He only knows about them bloody Frogs." Sharpe complained.

"I think that he knows the Greek as well." Faramir was not quite sure what the Frogs were, but it seemed to be a way to refer to the ones called the French, Carl had taught him some of their tongue.

"He might have been going on about it some time." Sharpe thought that he might have had at one time or the other. "Can't keep track of all the philosophers and poets and all he is always going on about. Don't know who all them buggers are, Macbeth and Shakespeare and all of the bloody lot."

Faramir smiled to himself again. "Shakespeare was a writer who wrote plays." He explained. "Macbeth was a play that he wrote, as was Romeo and Juliet." Not for the first time Faramir was grateful for Carl and the access he had to books Faramir would otherwise never have found.

"All the same to me." Sharpe shrugged. "I'm a soldier, not a bloody scribe."

"I am a soldier as well, and still I enjoy the written word. Mayhap we should find you some historical tale about war, or we could try war poetry. "

"War poetry." Sharpe balked. "What the bloody hell is war poetry?"

"It is when poets try to glorify fighting and killing." Faramir explained to him.

"Aye, I know them." Sharpe nodded. "They write so fancy words about it all, make everyone think that they know all about war, then you take them and show them a bit of fighting, and suddenly the do not know anything about it anymore. I know of them bastards alright."

"Some of it is fairly good though." Faramir said softly.

_"Beaucoup un combat a vous a combattu,_

_Parfois vois avez eté attrapé._

_Mais jamais battu et jamais cassé._

_Pas par les mèches et pas par l'épée,_

_Pas par les homes dans le trésor d'ennemi."_

"What the bloody hell does that mean?" Sharpe demanded.

"It is French, or Frog, I guess you would say." Faramir smiled.

"Many a battle have you fought,  
sometime you have been caught.  
But never defeated and never broken.  
Not by lashes and not by the sword,  
not by the men in the enemy hoard."

"Well, what does it mean?" Sharpe had to admit that it did not sound all bad, but it was near impossible to tell what it meant.

"It is about a soldier who had fought many battles, and had even been taken by the enemy a time or two, but who was never defeated." Faramir explained. "Not by lashes and not by the sword, not by the men in the enemy hoard. They could not brake him, not by whip, sword or anything, not even the entire enemy army could defeat him."

Insert temporary ending until the next part here..

_Pronounciation Guide by Celebrion:_

_Well, for not going into details you sure reveal a lot..._

_Yargh! Too much French the last weeks! Just go with the usual bloody Accent... Whoops, was that me? Sharpe's must be beginning to get to me..._

_And to Earendil Eldar: Some horses can be mean, most of them actually (according to me), with the exception of Icelandic horses. I've ridden one twice and quite enjoyed it! The last time actually on Iceland, what a stunning landscape... sigh_

_Ahum, back on track... Dogs can be quite intimidating too and they all think they're big! Can't stand barking dogs, freaks me out..._

_As always, you brighten up our Tuesdays aswell!_

_Oh, and one to our new reviewer Randa-Chan:_

_Hehe, that would be a nice idea... But I don't think we can go with Quenya, at least half of the library in Minas Tirith is written in it. Quenya is to Gondor (aswell as Arnor and the Noldorian nations east of the Sea) as Latin is to the Western part of our world and I think I know what I'm speaking of._

_Hmm, I hadn't realised about the actors... Maybe because I prefer books to films generaly, with some exceptions.. _

_Stay on, we love reviews!

* * *

_

Silver Sniper: I do all I can to keep my updates coming as promised. Summer can indeed do interesting things with your brain, yet hopefully that means you are able to relax some.

Earendil Eldar: I thought that we were doing insanity with these chapters, at least that is the impression I've got from them. I agree with horses being nice, I like horses, I miss not being able to ride regularly anymore. I am not always able to have as many chapters as I would like in advance, but I always have at least two or three written all the time, so there is no real danger of lacking one.

Steelelf: I thought the movie was quite good, but then again I would. Sorry for the mix up, my spell check must have missed that, (hrmm, Celberion) I am really sorry for these mistakes, the curse of having dyslexia, I can not tell if I make any spelling errors or not. Hopefully it did not ruing the chapter to much.

Legolas's Girl 9: What could be more important than Middle Earth? I am happy to hear that you got it, and we all of us agree that you are indeed very far from stupid.

Lindahoyland: Faramir have begun seeing his more formal training as a way to tease Aragorn, and he is indeed skilled at using it. I though it was time to tie in another Viggo role, and Hidalgo was the easiest one to use. Kalten is a character in a book series written By David Eddings. The first book is called the Ruby Knight, and I think you would enjoy them very much, so I highly recommend them to you. If you want to know more about them I shall be happy to tell you.

Angranse: Thank you, I can not express how grateful I am to know that you have enjoyed reading this, your review meant a lot to me. Ah, again sorry for the error. It is my dyslexia that makes itself known again, and sometimes Celebrion misses these things while he betas. I hope that those mistakes does not ruing the reading experience to much.

Randa-Chan: I do not have much more to say than what Celebrion said above, but I want you too to know how much it means to us to be gifted with your reviews. Thank you, thank you very much.

* * *

Here I would like to thank everyone who reads my works, thank you.

Here it must also be said that in the tale "A Two Colour Chain Mail," we started the vote

based on the fact that Sean Bean and David Wenham made the perfect image of two brothers. We also got plenty of agreement on that.

So here it is, if you agree with us and think that they should be real brothers. Say so in your review. It shall be your vote. On my authors page, in the bio I shall keep score.

When the score reaches 100, they shall be declared official brothers. Then on my authors page shall be an official declaration written by Elenhin and Celebrion.

Then the truth can not be denied, they shall be brothers.


	39. Sharpe's Soldier, part two

Author's Note: This is a bit of a joke that I wrote with the help of a friend. We thought that Faramir was skilled at different languages, and wondered just what languages he could speak.

Trying to think of as many as possible, and writing a story on each. Some languages will be from Lord of the Ring, some will not, but we will name them and where they come from. So Have no fear

Sharpe is back, he sort of made me write him into another chapter, and since he can be very insistent when he wants to, I wrote him in. Thanks goes to Earendil Eldar for help with the translation. The poem used is one I have written myself.

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Ring, I only borrow parts of it and shall return them as soon as I am done. Completely undamaged, as I am certain it will be impossible to see where we glued the pieces back together.

**This chapter will be divided into two parts, as the first part is already posted, this part automatically becomes part two.

* * *

**

**_Sharpe's Soldier_**

"Must've been a good soldier then." Sharpe nodded. "Doesn't sound all bad, just bloody dressed up."

"That is what poetry is." Faramir reasoned. "A way to take something that is harsh and cruel, and dress it up in so many words that you would think it was beautiful when listening to it. Yet if you listen to the meaning, it is still just as harsh and cruel."

"I know those who do that." Sharpe grinned. "All over the place back home, hanging around the gin houses and talking all the young fools into taking the King's shilling. Always going on about the glory and the honour of it, then you get there, and all there is to it is mud and shit, and its yes sir, and no sir, and can I dig your latrine sir. And if you don't, if you look an bloody officer in the eye, then they'll flog you for it. That's the bloody British army that, in all its glory, blood and mud."

"Harsh." Faramir agreed. He could not really stand the thought of flogging men himself, it was cruel, and yet sometimes necessary, because some crimes had to be punished.

"Aye, but its all poachers, picklocks and cutthroats. No one will care if you flog the lot of them."

"A commander should care about his soldiers." Faramir stated. "I would not want to serve under a commander whom I knew did not care for his soldiers."

"I don't get paid for them care." Sharpe reasoned. "I get paid to kill the Frogs, and that's what I'll do."

"We serve in two very different armies." Faramir decided.

"Aye, we do. And you know how to fight, but you know all about them scribblers stuff as well, me, all I know is how to fight."

"And still you seem to know a lot more." Faramir grinned teasingly. "You do know more my friend but I shall not call you upon it."

Sharpe laughed merrily. "You're a bloody bastard for knowing buggers. Alright then, teach me that thing you were saying before. It'll give Harris something to try and figure out how I learnt it. He knows I can read and write, but he thinks that I am none to good at it."

"With pleasure." Faramir found the book with the poem in it and sat about to teach Sharpe. He was not about to tell Sharpe that it was a poem written about him. He did not need to know that unless he figured it out on his own. Faramir did however not think that he was likely to. Sharpe did not think that anyone would be fool enough to write a poem about him, but oh, there were always fools.

Sharpe was back in his camp, one thing about that damned scribbler, he did know how to master that bloody thing. Sharpe however had not bothered about bringing back the bloody book. As far as he was concerned the man could keep it. He did not care about books anyway.

He also got back just in time before he was called into the room, and then it was all bowing and scraping again.

Act like a man they had said once, crawl and snivel, it was not natural for a man to do that, but you had to. You had to if you did not want to be flogged. He had met a few good officers. Wellington was not about to flog him, no matter if he was on the brink of disrespectfulness at time, and with Hogan he had never bothered too much about respect.

That big Irish man did not seem to mind how Sharpe spoke to him, as long as he obeyed orders that was, and Sharpe did. He obeyed all their fool orders, and he tried to stay alive while doing it.

That was the hard part, staying alive while obeying orders.

Even if you were in the camp digging latrines you could get blown to Kingdom Come by a bloody rocket, and it did not have to be the bloody Frogs shooting them either. Those bloody things went as they pleased, and damned much you could do about it.

No, you could not do a bloody thing about it. Only duck if you heard them coming, but then the officers would be all over you for shirking your duty they would. If there was a way to please officers, then he had never heard about it. That much was certain.

He went back to his men as soon as he was done scraping and bowing.

"Move out at first light. Packs only. Try to take out the enemy hold here so that they main troop can punch through. There's a good lad Sharpe, make me proud." They had said that Sharpe sneered. He would punch a hole all right, he would, but if they were proud over him they would not show him that. He would be happy if he got a well done.

He informed the men while they sat around the fires in the evening.

As always Harris was talking about some book or the other, he was discussing them with Perkins, trying to educate the lad sure enough.

Yet this time Sharpe recognised at least some of what he said.

"You gonna teach him about them bloody Frogs?" He demanded with a grin. "Shouldn't do that Harris, least you teach him how to fight them."

"It's Voltaire, sir." Harris grinned.

"Aye, I know about the bugger alright." Sharpe grinned. "God is not on the side of the big battalions, but on the best shots. And, it's dangerous to be right when the government is wrong. That's Voltaire, eh?"

"It is, sir. Very good." Harris looked a little surprised that he had known that.

"Here's some more Frog for you then." Sharpe grinned.

"Beaucoup un combat a vous a combattu,

Parfois vois avez eté attrapé.

Mais jamais battu et jamais cassé.

Pas par les mèches et pas par l'épée,

Pas par les homes dans le trésor d'ennemi.

Vous avez tenu vrai à votre serment,

Même quand le nobles a jubilé

Vous êtes révélé mieux qu'ils, bien que.

Donc ce jour ici vous tenez,

A payé avec le sang est la terre.

Le sang de vous et vos amis,

A vous même l'ennemi le plus féroce se rend.

Le roi George obtient l'honneur et vous faites l'action.

Le con voitise pour combatte est dans votre courant sanguine.

À juste une fois l'aperçu le plus grand ennemi de tout est votre rêve."

He grinned at Harris baffled expression that he had known so much Frog talk, but why should you know people like Faramir less you could use them for something.

"Many a battle have you fought,  
sometime you have been caught.  
But never defeated and never broken.  
Not by lashes and not by the sword,  
not by the men in the enemy hoard. You have held true to your oath,  
even when the nobles did gloat.  
You proved to be better than they though.  
So this day here you stand,  
paid for with blood is the land. The blood of you and your friends,  
to you even the fiercest enemy surrenders.  
King George gets the honour and you do the deed.  
The lust to fight in your blood stream.  
To just once glimpse the greatest enemy of all is your dream."

He added the translation for Perkins who did not know enough Frog. Truth to be told Sharpe did not know enough to translate it all by himself, but he would be damned if he told Harris that. Let the man try to figure out how the hell he had learnt that.

"Very good, sir." Harris said when he had collected himself. "Where did you learn that."

"Made me wait in a bloody library." Sharpe chuckled. "Don't you think that I can read Harris. Don't you know that an officer must know how to read. They do, and I am an officer, so I bloody well know how to read." He laughed and the others joined in.

Then Harper came to sit beside him and gave him a horn mug of tea.

"Where did you learn that thing?" Harper asked quietly with a wide grin as he sipped his tea.

"Ran into a friend." Sharpe grinned. "He taught it to me."

"I did not know you were friends with any scribblers, so I did not." Harper raised his eyebrows.

"Who says I am." Sharpe grinned. "He's a soldier Harper, a soldier, like Harris. Knows all about them bloody books and all. Can't really tell though." He chuckled at Harper's confused expression as he stood up. They thought they knew him well, but he could still surprise them when he wanted to.

It was good to pull a surprise on them every now and again. Kept them from getting comfortable and all. It was a bad thing for soldiers to get too comfortable, you needed to keep them on their toes and alert.

He knew several ways to do that. He would use them as well as he saw fit. Just let them think they knew all the tricks he could pull, and he would show them.

It was not for nothing they called him a bloody bastard, he knew all the tricks.

Before we have to go into details about Sharpe's illegitimate decent, or whatever it should be called. I find it best to put a temporary ending here. Hopefully that way I shall not have to go into the details of bastards, even if I might just have done that, so to avoid all further mentioning, I put the temporary ending here.

* * *

_Pronounciation Guide by Celebrion:_

_Well, for not going into details you sure reveal a lot..._

_Yargh! Too much French the last weeks! Just go with the usual bloody Accent... Whoops, was that me? Sharpe's must be beginning to get to me..._

Lindahoyland: Maybe Aragorn can change how Sharpe perceives royalty indeed. I shall see what I can come up with. I might also add that both Boromir and Sharpe share some similarities with Kalten, they are all the same kind of soldiers. Hm, English confusing, I fear that in my case it is spelling that is confusing, I can not master it in any language, not even in the spoken ones.

Shy-Shadow Reckless: If I am able to figure out how to make Sharpe change his opinion about royalty with the help of Aragorn, then I should be able to give Harris more time as well. Would you enjoy that?

Earendil Eldar: I am afraid that Celebrion left on vacation, but shall we just say that he does not have to much experience, eh? I mean now that he can not defend himself, ; ) Ah, yes, I am insane, and I think that it is rather good. Else I would not have thought of doing this. I heard that the new Harry Potter was very sad, they do not seem to be the same kind of children's books anymore, do they?

Steelelf: I will try a great deal not to put in anything to ruin it. Sharpe seems to be very popular, and I certainly like him very much. He is a very amusing character, and easy to experiment with.

Silver Sniper: The Kingdom of Dust follows its own rules, and it have indeed surprised many unsuspecting victims. Er, what were you doing with the salt water?

Legolas's Girl 9: Does that mean you finally got to Middle Earth? If so, send a post card please.

* * *

Here I would like to thank everyone who reads my works, thank you.

Here it must also be said that in the tale "A Two Colour Chain Mail," we started the vote

based on the fact that Sean Bean and David Wenham made the perfect image of two brothers. We also got plenty of agreement on that.

So here it is, if you agree with us and think that they should be real brothers. Say so in your review. It shall be your vote. On my authors page, in the bio I shall keep score.

When the score reaches 100, they shall be declared official brothers. Then on my authors page shall be an official declaration written by Elenhin and Celebrion.

Then the truth can not be denied, they shall be brothers.


	40. Fear For Fools

Author's Note: This is a bit of a joke that I wrote with the help of a friend. We thought that Faramir was skilled at different languages, and wondered just what languages he could speak.

Trying to think of as many as possible, and writing a story on each. Some languages will be from Lord of the Ring, some will not, but we will name them and where they come from. So Have no fear

Portuguese here, and we are counting on the fact that many strange things cross the ocean.

Once before in a chapter there was a gift coming to the King, now anew gift has been sent, and this time Eomer and Aragorn are more wary of it, due to what occurred last time.

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Ring, I only borrow parts of it and shall return them as soon as I am done. Completely undamaged, as I am certain it will be impossible to see where we glued the pieces back together.

**Note: This might be confusing unless you have read the chapter Portuguese Surprise.

* * *

**

_**Fear For Fools**_

Aragorn regarded the crate that stood on the floor beside his desk. It was an ordinary solid, harmless looking, wooden crate. He regarded it very carefully.

"I still say we wait for Faramir." He said carefully.

Eomer regarded the crate curiously. "We have no idea of when he will be back from the patrol." He pointed out. "What is the worst that could happen anyway."

"Considering that we had to bury a cheese in the garden the last time." Aragorn allowed his voice to drift of at the end of the sentence. The last time the two of them had decided to open a crate containing gifts from a foreign land, it had been a rather interesting experience.

This had resulted in a rather interesting approach from the two Kings. Both of them was curious and wanted to open this crate that was apparently a new gift from the Portuguese, yet neither of them really dared to.

If it was the same as the last time there should be a letter inside, explaining what the different things were. Since Faramir had been away then they had decided to open it on their own. They had also tried to discover what the things were on their own, and it had some rather interesting results.

They had been forced to take drastic measures as they uncovered what was apparently a cheese, but had a very distinctive smell, and had thus buried it in the garden.

Faramir had come only to see the last stages of the events, and had been thrown into the fountain as he had laughed.

This time both men were more wary in their approach, only they wanted to open it, and so one would decide that they should. Only every time the other would suggest waiting for Faramir, since he would be able to read the letter, and so the discussing began again.

"Fine, we open it." Aragorn gave in, he was beginning to want an end to this.

"Maybe you are right." Eomer had stepped forward to pry open the lid, but now he stepped back again. "It would make sense to wait for him."

"Eomer, we have been going back and forth like this for hours, it is time that we decide on a course of action and stick with it." Aragorn stated. "We are Kings, we command troops in war, and we rule our lands. We should be able to decide on a course of action for opening a crate."

"I agree." Eomer nodded confidently. "So what do we do?" He added.

"I do not know." Aragorn shook his head. "I just don't know Eomer."

* * *

Faramir peered out from under his hood into the pouring rain. He might as well pull the hood back from his head. The hood and his cloak were so sodden they did no good at all anymore. The rain had been pelting him for hours, and he was soaked to the skin. Literally, he was certain that if he was to hold his boots upside down, water would pour out of them, and that was boots that would allow him to cross a river and still be dry.

He looked up at the sky, and felt a small river enter the neckline and run down his chest and back. It was about the size of Anduin, he could feel it run all the way down his body. The reason he was looking up was because it seemed amazing that there was still any rain left in the clouds.

He could not really tell, he was sure that he would be able to if he could see the clouds, but he could not see the clouds, as soon as he looked up he got his eyes full of rain water and could not see anything.

The poor horse had to be as miserable as he was, but he had to admit his admiration for the Rohan horses. The poor creature did not complain, just trudged on. He treasured the horse that he had named Pixie after its humour. Normally he would be up to some trick, but in this weather he was not, or was he. Faramir blinked, what was the horse doing?

It had to be a silent complaint about being out in this weather. Why had the horse picked up a giant fern in his mouth and was walking with it in his mouth, so that the leaves of it shielded his head.

That, Faramir decided, was literary the drop that overflowed the goblet. The next spot that offered the slightest shelter he would stop and allow the poor animal to rest. He had been out on patrol with his men, and had gotten a message saying his presence was requested in the city, so despite the fact that the weather was turning foul he had left the shelter of the cave where the patrol had struck camp and headed back.

He would however find a spot of shelter now, Eowyn would have his head if he allowed the poor best to catch a cold from the weather.

He found a relative shelter beneath a thick stand of trees, enough to wait out the rain without getting much wetter than before. Using some tall grass he tried to rub down the horse as much as possible, and got rewarded by a wet nose burrowing into his neck. Still it was a show of appreciation.

Faramir gave him an apple from his pack and they waited out the worst of the weather before continuing.

* * *

Still Faramir was still sodden when he entered the King's study. He had dried enough that he was not dripping while he settled Pixie in the stable.

"My Liege, I was called and thus have I come. What would the King ask of me?" Faramir performed the deepest and most flowing bow he was capable of. If Aragorn made him ride through the rain, then he would use the most formal ways he had ever been taught.

"Faramir, please." Aragorn groaned. "It is good to see you my friend, but please do not bow so."

"Not to mentioning speaking so that a man can understand." Eomer went on.

Faramir turned to him and executed the bow again. He suddenly had a suspicion that they were both just as guilty in dragging him out into the rain. "I beg thy pardon, my Lord, for my failure to greet thee as thou are due. And I pray that I have not offended thee in my ignorance."

He knew that Eomer hated such stiff and formal language even more than Aragorn did, and so it was even more fun to do it.

Eomer just stared at him and shook his head, staring at his brother in law. He had no idea of what he had just said, but he had known Faramir long enough now to recognize that glint in his eye, the one that meant he knew he was driving them insane, and was doing it on purpose.

He had once believed Faramir to be a dullard beyond hope, but it was not so. Faramir was capable of some rather refreshing humour if he wanted to.

Eomer was willing to bet that it had something to do with the fact that Faramir looked rather wet. He was more than capable for taking revenge in that way.

"What would my Lord and Liege ask of his most humble servant now that I am arrived?" Faramir went on inclining his head.

"Faramir, please, no such court behaviour." Aragorn pleaded.

"The poor man is soaking wet." Eomer stated, as he thought that he had gotten to the bottom of it. "You should have told the messenger that it was not such a hurry that he had to ride through the rain."

"That would have been appreciated." Faramir nodded. "Yet I am here now, so what assistance might I be of?"

"We have been sent another crate from those Portuguese." Aragorn informed him. "We did not want to open it without you considering the last time."

"I can actually agree with that." Faramir nodded. "I am afraid that any more cheese might kill the flowers in the King's garden."

"If you were not already so wet it would be pointless I would throw you into the fountain, this time as well." Eomer growled.

Together the three men opened the create and peered inside. Aragorn reached into the crate for a folded letter and handed it to Faramir for reading.

Faramir raised his eyebrows as he read through the context of the letter.

"What does it say?" Aragorn demanded seriously.

"It says that it is another gift of goodwill." Faramir said bemused. "And that they thought that since there was nothing particularly strange in it, we should be able to figure it all out on our own."

"How do they think we'd know what this is?" Eomer demanded holding up a pineapple.

Even as it might be amusing to write, I thought that it would be mean to write how three mighty men was bested by a pineapple, and so what happens next shall be one of those mysteries that the author does not share with the readers.

That way no one will be offended to learn that they did not manage to figure out what to do with the pineapple, even if they were able to get it open.

So instead I shall insert a temporary ending here and wish you all well.

_Pronounciation Guide by Celebrion:_

_Yay! The pineapple! I've waited for this one a long time! She promised to do this about six months ago, well about the time we started this series anyway... That IS about six months ago! Where do the time fly?_

_See ya!

* * *

_

Earendil Eldar: It is more than ten years since the last time I had something called vacation, so don't ask me what it is. Faramir and Sharpe does seem to get along well, and I intend to have Sharpe show again, and yes, Faramir spends a lot of time in the Kingdom of Dust. I guess he would love to take his vacation there.

Lindahoyland: Yes, Faramir and Sharpe does indeed get along well, I think they both sees qualities in the other that they like. I intend to see what Aragorn can do about Sharpe's opinion about nobility and Kings, it should be coming soon. I also want to thank you so very much for your comments, it is such a pleasure to write when I know you will be reading. I hope you enjoyed reading Sharpe as I love those books, as for NT, I think you might like that movie, it is quite good. Not to mention that Sean Bean does a great job with playing Ian, he is the bad guy in the movie, but he keeps showing good qualities, while the 'good' guy shows some not always to good qualities as well.

Saerwen: Ah, all those nice reviews, we shall just see what we can come up with, eh? I am sure that you will be satisfied, and yes, the ants were walking upside down.

Shy-Shadow Reckless; Sharpe seems to have some odd respect for Kings. Not as if he thinks they can do much good, but he still respects their position, and I do have a plan for how I shall make it work, and for the record, I am an author-wannabe. I want to be a real author one day. Hopefully I will be eventually.

Nienor Niniel: I am glad to hear that you have been enjoying it, I would most certainly like to see what you think about the rest of it as well. Ah, the German, yeah, I have a friend who's mother is German, I made him help me out. I told him what I wanted and he translated it for me, it is possible that I made a mistake or two writing it into the chapter though. It is hard to do all those languages and not make mistakes, but I am glad to hear you still enjoyed it.

Legoals's Girl 9: Well at least you got to middle earth, so have fun while you are there.

Silence: I am glad to hear you like it, I try very hard to avoid the mistakes, but it seems I fail more often then I like. I am glad to hear that it does not destroy the story though. Ah, yes, we have been thinking about some of those, but I need to have a bit I can use first, a sentence or a word or something, and Portuguese we have used after a fashion here. I hope that you enjoyed it.

Silver Sniper: I enjoy trying to portray the characters true to what they should be like, but it is always fun to develop on them, I am so happy to hear that you think I've done well. Ah, snorkelling, but if you swallow a half gallon or two, does not that make one gallon, I am not good at math, but I thought that two half gallons would make one whole. Just kidding, I got the point, did you see any nice fishes?

* * *

Here I would like to thank everyone who reads my works, thank you.

Here it must also be said that in the tale "A Two Colour Chain Mail," we started the vote based on the fact that Sean Bean and David Wenham made the perfect image of two brothers. We also got plenty of agreement on that.

So here it is, if you agree with us and think that they should be real brothers. Say so in your review. It shall be your vote. On my authors page, in the bio I shall keep score. When the score reaches 100, they shall be declared official brothers. Then on my authors page shall be an official declaration written by Elenhin and Celebrion.

Then the truth can not be denied, they shall be brothers.


	41. Portuguese Problems

Author's Note: This is a bit of a joke that I wrote with the help of a friend. We thought that Faramir was skilled at different languages, and wondered just what languages he could speak.

Trying to think of as many as possible, and writing a story on each. Some languages will be from Lord of the Ring, some will not, but we will name them and where they come from. So Have no fear

Portuguese here, and we are counting on the fact that many strange things cross the ocean. There is now also the reappearance of the Lord Demeni.

Once before in a chapter there was a gift coming to the King, now anew gift has been sent, and this time Eomer and Aragorn are more wary of it, due to what occurred last time.

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Ring, I only borrow parts of it and shall return them as soon as I am done. Completely undamaged, as I am certain it will be impossible to see where we glued the pieces back together.

**Note: This might be confusing unless you have read the chapter Portuguese Surprise, as well as the last chapter, Fear For Fools.

* * *

**

**_Portuguese Problems_**

Aragorn was working himself through the mountain of papers that were on his desk. It shared some of the traits with Mount Doom he decided.

It was impossible to get to the top off.

It blocked out the sun light from the window and laid his desk in shadows, and it should really be destroyed he decided.

Regretfully it seemed to be harder to destroy the paperwork than it had been to destroy the One Ring. For one thing his desk had not yet spit out another copy of his signet ring. It seemed more intent on devouring it.

Hours spent going through the drawers to find it had taught him never to put his ring in a drawer for safe keeping. It just could not be done.

He really wished he could get rid of some of the documents in some way thought, and at times it had been tempting to turn his back when Faramir was in the room. He knew that some of the documents would then disappear from his pile, but they would only reappear in Faramir's pile, and since his usually was higher, it would not really be fair to do that.

Not to mention what Eowyn would do to him if she found out that he had allowed Faramir to take on more work.

She did not approve of the hours her husband sometimes worked, and it had only been Aragorn's innocence in the matter that had saved him once.

He had considered a law against this kind of paper work, and there was only really one thing that stopped him from doing it, the fact that it would mean more paper work, and if there was one thing he did not need it was more papers to deal with.

Something had to be done though, he and Faramir was both getting buried in the white documents with their black script, and he soon meant it literally.

They had learnt to cope with the usual amount, but for some reason more had been pouring forth lately than the usual amount.

Neither of the two men knew where it came from, but Aragorn secretly blamed his desk.

Wherever it came from though, one fact was clear, much more of it and neither him nor Faramir would be able to cope with it, neither of them was able to get all the sleep they needed, and both of them ate nearly all meals by their desk.

If it went on for much longer then Eowyn and Arwen would take action. Eowyn was already starting to give him menacing looks when she saw him, and he could not really blame her.

The last time he had seen Faramir the man had looked bone weary, it would be just like him to take even less rest than Aragorn every night.

In the name of self-defence against the angry wife of his overworked steward, Aragorn had to do something about it.

He did not really like it, but it was time to delegate some of the workloads to someone else. Either he or Faramir would still have to check everything all the time, but hopefully that would mean less work for them.

* * *

Faramir sat rubbing his eyes with one hand, then removed it as he realised it only made it harder to focus on the paper in front of him.

If he did not make it from his desk and home to his wife soon, said wife would give him an earful about it as soon as he did.

Meaning that if he did not get back to her within the next few minutes, it was safest for him not to get back at all.

It would be safer for him to sleep at his desk he decided a few minutes later as he saw the next document on his desk.

One that was supposed to be sent away the next morning. One thing was certain, it could not, under any circumstances be sent the way it was.

To do that would be to risk open war, and to ´not take care of it tonight was to face an open war the next time he went home. Eowyn was not one to meet him with silence when she was displeased. She was one to threaten him with her sword.

There was only one thing to do if he wanted to avoid war on all fronts, he went home to his wife and explained to her why he would not be home just yet. Eowyn could very easily understand what happened if he did not take care of this tonight. Of course, she also made very clear to him what would happen to him with him if he did not sleep once he had dealt with it.

Faramir entered Aragorn's study and saw the man there half asleep.

"Aragorn." Faramir said quietly to alert him to his presence.

Aragorn looked up. "Shouldn't you be home with Eowyn by now?" Aragorn frowned.

"No more so that you should be home with Arwen." Faramir pointed out.

"My wife does not tend to meet me with a sword if I am too late." Aragorn smiled, though Arwen had no problem with making her displeasure known.

"I have her permission to stay up late." Faramir smiled. "Once she saw this she understood that it had to be dealt with."

"What is it?" Aragorn stifled a yawn.

"The message that would be sent to the Portuguese together with the package of good will." Faramir told him.

"What's wrong with it?" Aragorn frowned at the document.

"Oh, nothing more than the fact that someone allowed the Lord Demeni to write it." Faramir said and grinned as Aragorn paled.

"What did he write?" Aragorn swallowed as he tried to calm his nerves.

"Lets just say that the opening phrase would most likely have resulted in a declaration of war." Faramir told him. "He sort of greeted them and managed to calm them savage dogs at the same time. And may they live happy till they rot." He shook his head. "We must go over all of this before it can be sent."

Aragorn groaned, it would be a long night. When he delegated the work he had not intended for the Lord Demeni to get his hands on any of it.

I will end this here before the Lord Demeni gets his hands on this, and writes something insulting instead of the temporary ending that is here.

_Pronounciation Guide by Celebrion:_

_Does that mean I can write something insulting here too, like calling you sane?_

_But that would make me seem insane... No harm done then. You're sane!_

Silver Sniper: Well, pineapples have been known to be tricky, and given the generally insanity in this tale, it was not a very far stretch to come up with something like that. It was in fact, all to easy. Maybe we shall elaborate on it some other time, but that is not a promise since I can not guarantee it.

Earendil Eldar: Coconuts and pineapples is a standing joke between Celebrion and me, I've given him a coconut, and he's given me a pineapple. We opened a coconut when I was a kid once, a wine bottle opener is quite effective actually. You use that in the eye, pour out the milk, and then you can just smash it open with force. Hmm, need to get a new coconut for the next time Celebrion comes here. Er, horse chestnuts, those are the ones with spikes are they not? Cause we don't have many around here, shamefully.

Legolas's Girl 9:Better run fast, I wouldn't want cinnamon buns in my hair either. I am sure you could hide in the Kingdom of Dust though, or set Elrond lose on Elladan and Elrohir.

Steelelf: Glad you liked it, coconuts seems to be a good source of laughs. There is an old song here about opening one, where the brat in end falls back to using explosives, and still the nut wont open. It is the kind of song that has you laughing all the way through it. Hopefully this chapter gave you a laugh as well.

Lindahoyland: I think that I've read the fic you are referring to, and yes the trouble Eomer and Aragorn could cause trying to discover the secrets of the pineapple is almost frightening to consider. The cheese really is a pointer to what could happen, I was hoping that reference would get a laugh or two. Yeah, I almost felt sorry for leaving Faramir and his horse out in the rain, but it was really necessary for the story. I am glad to hear you enjoy Sharpe so much, which one of the books did you read? Maybe I could recommend a particularly one for you, also, very glad to hear you will look out for National Treasure. It might not be the greatest movie ever made, but it is good, and Sean is great in it, I don't think that Earendil Eldar has regretted seeing it, and it would be interesting to see what you though of my story after having seen it. It is a good movie.

* * *

Here I would like to thank everyone who reads my works, thank you.

Here it must also be said that in the tale "A Two Colour Chain Mail," we started the vote based on the fact that Sean Bean and David Wenham made the perfect image of two brothers. We also got plenty of agreement on that.

So here it is, if you agree with us and think that they should be real brothers. Say so in your review. It shall be your vote. On my authors page, in the bio I shall keep score. When the score reaches 100, they shall be declared official brothers. Then on my authors page shall be an official declaration written by Elenhin and Celebrion.

Then the truth can not be denied, they shall be brothers.


	42. Boromir?

Author's Note: This is a bit of a joke that I wrote with the help of a friend. We thought that Faramir was skilled at different languages, and wondered just what languages he could speak.

Trying to think of as many as possible, and writing a story on each. Some languages will be from Lord of the Ring, some will not, but we will name them and where they come from. So Have no fear

This time Sean Bean makes another guest appearance as Ian Howe, from National Treasure. We though it would be interesting to see him and Faramir together, especially since Ian in the movie suffered the loss of his best friend, Shaw. The language is German, and again my good friend Gunnar helped me with it. The phrase is something I once said to a friend, and I think it is true.

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Ring, I only borrow parts of it and shall return them as soon as I am done. Completely undamaged, as I am certain it will be impossible to see where we glued the pieces back together.

* * *

**_Boromir?_**

Ian Howe coughed as dust stirred from the pages of a book, although he enjoyed leafing through old tomes, he really did not care about the dust. He wished he could have some water or something to sip, something to wash down the dust in his throat.

It was however not possible, if he even thought about it the librarians would come running and throw him out.

They were all of them looking through the library after a certain book, but Ian who was still healing from an arm injury was the one who had to leaf through all the books. Since he was supposed to be taking it easy.

With more time to his disposal, and nothing in particular to search for, Ian could have thrived here. So many notes from the past written down, it was something that was hard to resist, and he wished that Shaw could have been here.

Shaw might not have shared Ian's passion for the old and dusty things, could barely be made to understand how Ian could enjoy looking through those old books, but Shaw could still share the feeling with him like no one else could. Shaw understood him so well that it did not matter. He would hear the passion in Ian's voice as he spoke, and he could understand it.

Shaw would consider it story time when Ian tried to explain something of the Knights Templar to him. He would enjoy hearing the tales Ian could tell him, he just did not care for sitting and reading about it himself.

Ian had met Shaw when he was twenty, and it was generally assumed that you could not meet nice people in prison, but Shaw had been the exception. Shaw had been there as a down in his 'pick pockety' luck, he had been a pick pocket because he had been down in his luck. The community sometimes left you with little choice but to become a criminal, Ian thought ruefully. He himself had made the choice that made him a criminal when he was fifteen. When he was orphaned and realised there was no legal way for him to earn enough money to pay the bills.

The reason he had been in prison had however been different, he had taken to show a child abuser how it felt to be beaten, and it had earned him six months. Those six months had however not been a complete loss, he had meet Shaw.

Even the guards had noted that the calm and calculating Ian had been good for Shaw who was more of a hot head, and it had been suspected that Ian would keep Shaw out of trouble once they had both served their time.

For a long time it had been true, Ian had kept Shaw out of trouble, until he had gotten him into the trouble that had killed him, the treasure hunt. He had lost the one who had been the closest to him then. Ian had loved his parents, had never doubted that he was loved by them, but he had never been so close to them as he had been to Shaw.

His death had been crippling, it had near broken Ian. The grief had near broken him, to the point where he had even shunned his friends, fearing they would hold him at blame. They did not, he knew that now, and slowly, inch by inch, he was getting over the crippling guilt. He was not sure if the grief would ever lessen though.

Ian carefully lay the tome aside and took the next one, gently brushing of a covering layer of dust from the leather before he opened it.

"Boromir?" The voice that made him look up was quiet. A mere whisper, yet it sounded as a chocked scream, there was a note of pain and grief in that voice as well.

Ian looked up to see a man standing there, dressed very oddly in a long tunic, trousers and leather boots that were laced. The tunic was strange, it was a deep blue, and had a silver tree embroiled on the left chest, above the heart. His hair was a dark blond shot through with tints of red, and he wore it to his shoulder. He really made an odd appearance, not that Ian would complain because someone wore their hair long, he was not about to cut his short.

He fit in nicely with the surrounding books thought, better than Ian did, his baggy sweater looked a lot more out of place than this guy did.

There was also the look in the mans eyes, grief and pain as heavy as Ian felt it.

"I'm sorry." He said. "Can I help you?"

"I, er, no." The man shook his head, averting his eyes down for a moment, and Ian felt concerned for him. Then the man looked up again, his eyes still sad, but he looked more composed. "For a moment there I took you for my brother. I have never seen anyone share such likeness to him as you do. But for me to think it was he must be wishful thinking. He died some time ago."

Faramir was not sure why he should tell that, he truly had thought that it was Boromir there, even with those strange clothes, even when he knew he had mistaken himself this man still looked so much like his brother that it was painful to look upon him.

He did not know how it had happened this time, but for some reason the Kingdom of Dust had sent him off again, it was however odd, for he had done nothing to evoke such a journey this time. It might however have something to do with the loss in the other man's eye. The same loss of a lost brother that he knew was mirrored in his own eyes.

It could be that the Kingdom of Dust had brought together two souls who both mourned the loss of a brother.

"I'm sorry." The words was simple, yet Faramir could read so much in the voice of this man. He meant the words with an earnest that was very rare, but there was no doubt about it. They both shared the same loss.

"I am as well, grief is a heavy burden." Faramir spoke softly, not wanting to sound as if he was interfering with something he should leave alone. Yet if he had been brought here he would offer what support he could.

"It is." Ian looked down for a moment, fingering the page of the book he was leafing through."

"I'm Faramir, and it seems that we both mourn the loss of a beloved one." Faramir offered the man a warm and supportive smile. Hoping he would be able to offer this man more, for there truly was a resemblance of Boromir over him. The colour of his hair and eyes, the way he held himself. It could be that this man's resemblance to Boromir was one of the things that had brought them to one another.

"Ian." The other man said, and Faramir nearly felt his heart break so alike to his brother this man was. "I hope he knew just how beloved he was."

"Your brother?" Faramir asked, he knew what losing his brother had done to him, and this man's eyes held the same pain.

"No." He shook his head, and like when Boromir did that, his hair swung around his head. "I never had a brother to lose. A friend, one that was closer to me than anyone else has ever been, and it was my fault he died."

"I claimed the same thing, that it was my fault my brother died." Faramir was beginning to get a feeling of what had brought him to this man. Faramir had been able to come to terms with the way his brother had died, and this man badly needed to. "A wise friend of mine told me that it could not be."

"Did you make him go with you on a fool's mission, one that got him killed?" Ian's voice was thick with unshed tears and searing pain.

"No, but my brother went on one in my stead." Faramir stepped closer, standing vigilant behind the other man. "He went in my stead, and he died there, and yet it was not my fault. What more, had I gone instead, and had died instead, he would have been the one blaming himself. I would rather spare him that pain."

"Shaw never questioned what we were doing, he just did what I asked him to, went wherever I went, and he died following me. I should have seen that it was a doomed mission." Ian was looking down at the table. "I did not, and he died."

"He followed you willingly." It was not a question, Faramir did not need to ask that question, he knew the answer in his heart. "Boromir would never have demanded of someone what he would not do himself, and neither did you."

"How can you be so sure of that?" Ian wanted to know, this was indeed a strange man, and even stranger was that he was telling him so much. He was never this forward with people he did not know. Ian wanted to put his defences up, mind what he said more, but he could not make himself stop talking about it. For some reason it felt as if this Faramir understood him so well.

"He did." Ian admitted reluctantly, Shaw had always been willing to follow him, had he objected then, Ian would never have pushed on down the stair if Shaw had objected, but Shaw had been eager as well. He had wanted to go there, that was why Ian had brought him with him, because he wanted to find the treasure as much as Ian.

"You see there, it was not your fault." Faramir said calmly.

"Do you read minds or something?" Ian demanded. He was normally not that touchy, but it made him feel exposed. He was not used to being read so easily, by anyone else than Shaw.

Ian had once claimed that Shaw read him like an open book, Shaw had just snorted and claimed that it was more like reading a billboard.

"No." Faramir said with a sad smile. "I did not have to either." No, he thought, he did not need to. Not when someone was so much like his brother, he had known Boromir better than he knew himself, and the same seemed to go for this man.

Ian thought that it was spooky, and yet, he had to admit the truth to it, maybe losing Shaw really had not been his fault. He was not sure about that, but he had just realised what would happen if Ian allowed his guilt to break him down, it would be the worst thing he could do to Shaw, and he owed it to Shaw not to do that.

"We honour them best by honouring what they gave us." Faramir said softly.

Ian nodded, it was true, he had been looking at the page, running his finger over a section of the print the whole time. Now, for the first time he noticed what the words said, it was German, and so it had not struck him at first. „Die besten Freunde sind die die fünf Minuten weg sind, aber die man einen Leben lang vermisst." He read it out loud, following the words with his fingertip in an almost caress as he read it.

"Good friends are the ones that are gone for five minutes, and you miss them for an eternity." Faramir said softly. "It is true, very true."

"And when you know that they are gone forever…" Ian did not finish but looked up at Faramir.

"Then we have to think about what they gave us." Faramir told him, he thought that someone else was coming, so it would be a good time for him to get back. Ian was looking down into the book again, and he started to edge away.

"I guess so, it would be worse if I did not miss him, at least now I know how much he meant to me, and how much I treasure the memory of him." Ian looked up, he knew that Faramir would be gone, he had felt how he had disappeared, odd, that you could be so attuned to someone you had never met before. Yet it felt as if he had met him before, maybe he had, he did not know.

What he did know was that the other man had made a good point, he would honour Shaw's memory, not allow himself to be destroyed by it. So he grinned when his other friends came into view, Gregor, Victor and Phil, and there was Charlotte with their baby girl. The girl that was Ian's daughter, and was there a better way to honour Shaw than to show them how much he love them all?

Since I could not write more without giving a spoiler for my National Treasure fic, I shall insert a temporary ending here, and make the humble request that every reader who enjoyed this, shall go and hug someone you love, trust me, they shall appreciate it. Give someone a hug for Boromir and Shaw, and this temporary ending shall pass faster as well, trust me.

_Pronounciation Guide by Celebrion:_

_Hugs Elenhin How very true! And for as for the quote, it works the other way around too! When we met, after five minutes it felt like we've known each other for an eternity. Hugs again_

_I even got something to do this week! And it's not French! Yay!_

„Die besten Freunde sind die die fünf Minuten weg sind, aber die man einen Leben lang vermisst."

_Hmmm, best go with the flow of it, and try to incorporate some German accent into it._

_The 'r's are rolling as always, single 's's are toned while double 'ss's are not. The 'w's are pronounced as an English 'v' and the 'v's are pronoundced as an English 'f'... The 'ie' vowels are pronounced an English 'ee'._

_Until next week! Now I'm off on a late vacation!

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_

Earendil Eldar: Life does become more interesting when the Desk and The Lord Demeni gets together, does it not? Yet I think that it took care of some of the work for them, it was just bad luck that the good Lord got his hands on that particularly piece of work. On the other hand, had he not, what would I have given you to laugh at? Since he never tries to make it worse for them, they always seems to take his mistakes with good humour.

Silver Sniper: Hmm, Bonfire, maybe we should lend them some help with the paperwork, from scouts. Celebrion will testify that scouts in general, and the two of us in particular love a good fire, but then I am afraid that the fire would not be constricted to paper work only, and that could be a bad idea. Anyway, since there are many jokes left to be made on the subject of signing papers, we would not want to resort to such drastic means just yet would we? What fun would we have then?

Legolas's Girl 9: Glad your back. Hmm, books can really be usefull for finding your way through life, I think that's been proved now. As happy as ever that you liked the chapter, I hope that you could enjoy this one as well.

Shy-Shadow Reckless: I think that when Eowyn meets him in the door, it is mostly to make sure that he knows what she thinks about him being so late. Is the kind of person who would make her annoyance known, on the other hand she fully understands the responsibility Faramir has. It is more of a way to keep him from neglecting himself, than any actual punishment. Also quite true, she'd be more angry at Aragorn for allowing it, then on Faramir. Eowyn and Faramir are both very cute and very sweet together. Not to mention funny.

Lindahoyland: You do enjoy the comments about the paperwork, do you not? I am beginning to think so anyway. Actually, Arwen and Eowyn are more understanding than it seems, but they are both worried their husbands will neglect themselves for all the tedious paper work, acting as if they were angry is a way to drive their husbands away from their desks at night.

I just realised I don't really have a Sharpe favourite, they are all to good, but I really enjoyed Sharpe's Eagle, and a short special called Sharpe's Christmas. What has me annoyed is that I read a funny quote that was supposed to come from Sharpe's Company, and I read the whole book without finding it, now I'm beginning to fear that there are cut and edited copies, and that I found one of them. I'll have to try and find another copy of that one. Let me know what you think of the rest of them, and I strongly recommend Sharpe's Trafalgar, the comment about "Watch your head sir," and the furry coffee will have you laughing on the floor.

Lady Elbereth Tealrose: Always as happy to hear that my padawans like my work, you make a master very proud meldir nin. Ah, the two of them are very enjoyable together. They are the perfect image of true friendship.

Steelelf: I am sure the Lord Demeni appreciates that you find him so amusing. He never seems to mind me writing about him. I hope you were able to enjoy this just as much as well, thought it might be different.

Now, how many will run straight up to the nearest person to deliver a hug? I for one will, many hugs to all of you taking the time and trouble to read this.

* * *

Here I would like to thank everyone who reads my works, thank you.

Here it must also be said that in the tale "A Two Colour Chain Mail," we started the vote based on the fact that Sean Bean and David Wenham made the perfect image of two brothers. We also got plenty of agreement on that.

So here it is, if you agree with us and think that they should be real brothers. Say so in your review. It shall be your vote. On my authors page, in the bio I shall keep score. When the score reaches 100, they shall be declared official brothers. Then on my authors page shall be an official declaration written by Elenhin and Celebrion.

Then the truth can not be denied, they shall be brothers.


	43. The Right Way Is The Left Way

Author's Note: This is a bit of a joke that I wrote with the help of a friend. We thought that Faramir was skilled at different languages, and wondered just what languages he could speak.

Trying to think of as many as possible, and writing a story on each. Some languages will be from Lord of the Ring, some will not, but we will name them and where they come from. So Have no fear

Japanese have been requested for some time now, and I thought I should try to make something out of it. I decided to see what would happen if Aragorn found a book of Manga to read, and it turned out to be interesting.

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Ring, I only borrow parts of it and shall return them as soon as I am done. Completely undamaged, as I am certain it will be impossible to see where we glued the pieces back together.

Lindahoyland: Who seemed to enjoy reading about the paperwork that always terrorizes Aragorn and Faramir.

* * *

_**The Right Way Is The Left Way**_

Aragorn groaned as he sat down behind his desk. He still thought that it was a rather nice desk. The smooth polished wood, and intricate carvings. He thought that it was a really beautiful desk. He thought it was, and that was what made him groan, he really had no idea anymore. He could not recall the last time he saw the actual desk beneath all the official documents.

At one point he had considered just 'accidentally' dropping a burning sliver of wood when he was lighting the candles. All the papers would just flare into flames, and that should be the end of it.

Faramir had however asked him not to do it. Faramir wanted to be rid of the papers as much as Aragorn did, but he had explained that copies were made of everything excepts a few specific documents, to ensure they were not lost, and even more distressing. If all the documents should be lost in a fire on the King's desk, there would be a lot of paperwork as it was established how such a thing could have occurred, and if there was one thing they did not need, it was more paperwork.

Once he had considered spilling his ink over a particularly pointless piece of parchment, he had even nudged the inkwell with his elbow, and how came it that the blasted thing was always dry when you so desperately needed the ink. By the time he had hunted down some more ink, for of course the supply in the cabinet was depleted. He had forgotten his intent, and just worked out the document instead of destroying it.

He hated it when the Kingly paper forms filling way of thinking he had recently gotten trained in took over hand over his old ranger way of thinking. He could have drowned the thing in a river of ink and been long gone before he had been found out.

Regretfully there was nothing to do about it. As a soldier he knew when he was beaten and so he set to work. Going over all the documents. Filling out forms, approving and not approving requests. Really why did they even bother to make some of those requests, they were really too absurd, no sane man would ever approve them.

Which was most likely why most of them were made by the Lord Barladro, Aragorn had quickly put him down as rather not sane at all. His position as a Lord was nearly as absurd as some of the requests he had made.

No doubt he would come in a rage and demand an answer as to why his requests had been 'not' approved, but until his state of intelligence had improved. Seeing as how that was rather unlikely, Aragorn did not think it would happen anytime soon.

Most likely it would be about the same times when Hobbits only ate one meal a day. Only even more unlikely than that.

Stifling a yawn he almost wished for anything to interrupt, almost, for he had learnt that there were worse things than tedious documents. For example, maybe a balrog would burn the documents to cinders, but they really did not make good pets. Glorfindel had claimed so, and he was one who knew from experience. Then there was the bother of Sauron trying to take over his office, now that might break the dullness, but it might also break other things. Then there was the horde of angry cave trolls on a rampage. Certainly not dull, but about as dangerous as Eowyn when she was angry at Faramir for having worked too late. There were times when Faramir had considered passing the armoury on the way home.

No, for the safety of all Aragorn wished that something good would interrupt the boring work. He was lucky it would seem, for suddenly he came upon something in the pile that was not an official document trying to brake the old record in bureaucratic stupidity.

It was a small book, but not a leather bound one, the cover and the spine was made out of thicker paper. It also had a brightly painted image on it, one of people with strange huge eyes, he had no idea where it had come from, but some of the documents came from the library that was referred to as the _Kingdom of Dust_, so he was willing to make a fair guess. It was really odd, the figures looked like men, but he had never seen men with so huge eyes and so funny expressions before.

It looked like some kind of child's drawings. When he opened it he could not make any sense out of it. The pages where covered with pictures of those strange people. There were the same kind of odd looking symbols that he now saw on the front cover.

He could not figure out what it was at all.

"Aragorn." He was very grateful when he heard Faramir's voice, but he did not look up until he was sure that Faramir would have straightened from the bow he had no doubt performed as he spoke.

"Faramir, could you tell me what this was by any chance." He noted as he held up the book for his Steward to see it.

"I can most certainly try, my Lord." Faramir grinned. Adding the title just to spite Aragorn, for not looking as he bowed when he came in. His bowing and using of titles was grating at Aragorn's nerves at times, and it was also very amusing.

He took the book and studied it briefly. "It's called Manga." He said with a smile. "A Japanese form of entertaining reading."

"I don't understand any of it." Aragorn shook his head, taking it and flipping through the pages.

"You're reading it the wrong way." Faramir explained.

Aragorn frowned, wondering if the insanity level of the Lord Barladro's requests had started to affecting Faramir's way of thinking. Yet he still turned the book upside down.

"No, I meant like this." Faramir took the book and held it the right way, then he opened it at the back first. "See, while we read from the left to the right, they read from the right to the left. Meaning you have to start at the end and read forwards." He explained.

"What are all those odd looking things?" Aragorn asked pointing at the symbols.

"That is their written language. It lets you know what the people are saying." Faramir explained. "They also use the facial expressions a great deal, and that is partially why they are so exaggeratedly drawn. This one is called 'Pet Shop of Horrors, and it seems quite good."

Faramir did indeed think that it looked rather interesting, he would not mind reading it at all. It did not seem as Aragorn was too interested in it past a mild curiosity, but then that might be because he found Japanese very hard to read.

Now, it would have been interesting to make this chapter in Manga style, but since did not support Greek characters, I rather doubt that it would support any kind of Japanese ones, and I did not think it would support the drawings either. Since I did not know how bad that would be, I decided to make a temporary ending here, and allow these two to read their Manga in peace, without making the characters appear as small boxes, which I doubt even Faramir could read.

So until the next chapter, this is temporarily the end.

_Pronouniciation Guide by Celebrion:_

_YAY! Pet Shop of Horrors! Love that one! Pity I've only got parts 1-4 at the moment..._

_And to Lindahoyland: I prefer Shakespears comedies to the tragedies, Much Ado about Nothing is among my favourite plays (and movies!). I almost laughed out loud when I saw the poster for 'The Merchant of Venice' the first time, Hollywood seems to like making drama out of whatever they might find... I haven't seen it yet, but I think I will as soon as I've read the theatrical script.

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_

Earendil Eldar: It does seem that many liked the last chapter, and I think it turned out very well. I like writing Ian as he is a very interesting character, there is so much to him if you take the time to look deeper into his character. He does remind you a slight bit of Boromir at times, I think they share much the same weaknesses. Both strive so hard to protect what they hold dear, that they sometimes loses track of the bigger picture. There is a lot of Ian to come in my other fic, I did tell you how many pages I have, and I really hope that you will like it.

Silver Sniper: I loved National Treasure, enough that I bough the DVD even before the price cut, thought mostly that was so I would be able to check up on the information and the details in it for my other fic. The Biggest Treasure, that is a National Treasure fic I have begun posting here. Since I think that the friendship between Ian and his men is portrayed so very well, if you only look for it, I thought it would be a nice idea to include it here.

Lady Elbereth Tealrose: Ah, my very dear padawan, you would know where that quote comes from, it was after all to you I said it. Finally here is your Japanese, I hope that it turned out satisfactory for you.

Steelelf: Ah, thank you, thank you very much. I enjoy writing comedy, but I also like to throw in some more deeper meanings at times. It is so great to know you enjoyed it.

Lindahoyland: Yeah, it can be confusing without the movie, but once I had gotten the idea, I had to do it. Boromir and Ian do look a lot alike, mostly because they both have the same hair colour, and close to the same hair length. They look enough alike that Faramir would react to it. In must try to get the Sharpe books for myself, and not have to relay on the library, since the library don't have them but have to order them. Luckily I have plenty of Shakespeare, the owner of the local second hand book shop has a lot of them in stock, and I spend a lot of time there. If he ever gets a Sharpe book, I have asked him to keep it for me. If you find Sharpe's company, I shall have to ask you to tell me, for there is a passage there I am looking for.

Legolas's Girl 9: National Treasure is one of my favorite movies as well, so I am very happy to hear that you enjoyed this chapter. Hmm, Legolas, does this mean you shall be running off on another adventure?

YourEvilOverlord: I do my very best to please. I enjoy writing humor, thought as I said, I like to try to get it a more serious at times as well. I am very grateful to you, not the least for finding it worthy enough to review, it is always the thrill of the week to know that the readers have enjoyed my writing. Thank you.

Pasha ToH: The same goes for you as well, a big thank you. I am so grateful that you enjoy this. I shall as always do my best to keep the chapters coming.

* * *

Here I would like to thank everyone who reads my works, thank you.

Here it must also be said that in the tale "A Two Colour Chain Mail," we started the vote based on the fact that Sean Bean and David Wenham made the perfect image of two brothers. We also got plenty of agreement on that.

So here it is, if you agree with us and think that they should be real brothers. Say so in your review. It shall be your vote. On my authors page, in the bio I shall keep score. When the score reaches 100, they shall be declared official brothers. Then on my authors page shall be an official declaration written by Elenhin and Celebrion.

Then the truth can not be denied, they shall be brothers.


	44. A King For A Soldier, part one

Author's Note: This is a bit of a joke that I wrote with the help of a friend. We thought that Faramir was skilled at different languages, and wondered just what languages he could speak.

Trying to think of as many as possible, and writing a story on each. Some languages will be from Lord of the Ring, some will not, but we will name them and where they come from. So Have no fear

Sharpe is back, since so many seemed to enjoy him. This time the language is French, with many thanks Earendil Eldar for translating it for us.

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Ring, I only borrow parts of it and shall return them as soon as I am done. Completely undamaged, as I am certain it will be impossible to see where we glued the pieces back together.

**As always when Sharpe appears here, warning for curses and such, also this is another time when there will be several parts.**

* * *

_**A King For A Soldier, part one**_

"I'm bloody close to getting used to this bloody thing."

Faramir's head snapped up as he had not noticed any one else entering the library. There was also the fact that he recognized the curses as much as the voice. It was Sharpe, he turned around with a smile.

"I'm glad to hear that, since I must say it's an enjoyment to see you again." Faramir said with a teasing tone in his voice. Sharpe was not much for formalities, and almost as fun to tease about it as Aragorn was. "Or in plainer words, I'm glad to hear it because I actually enjoy your company."

"Careful ye don't choke on ye bloody tongue, talking like that." Sharpe snarled, but the glint in his eye let Faramir know he to was teasing.

"The danger of the formal language." Faramir laughed. "Sooner or later you'll find you said something else entirely than you meant to, and that shall make you sound as the good Lord Demeni."

"I don't know that bugger." Sharpe frowned. "Is he a Frog, or a bloody gentleman?"

"Ah, he's a lord of the court here." Faramir explained. "He has, shall we say a talent, for meaning to say one thing, and yet say something entirely different."

"He's a drunk?" Sharpe asked with a snort. Drink tended to make men say a lot of funny thing, one only had to listen to Price to hear that. He had claimed that he was not swaying from drink, but instead that he caught the wind more than most, from his willowiness. It was however impossible not to like him.

Faramir chuckled. "No, he's not a drunk, merely confused over his vocabulary and how to use it. He recently suggested we'd force all the soldiers into chastity, when he in truth meant we should have chastised them."

"Don't think the soldiers would have liked that." Sharpe declared with a wide grin. "Ain't a soldier won't tumble with a pretty lass once in a while. Ye bloody well can't stop them or they'll all desert."

Faramir nodded, the problem was not that big in the Gondorian army, but enough that he knew what Sharpe spoke of.

"They would not have enjoyed it." He agreed. "And it would have been unreasonable as well. But I will admit we got a good laugh out of it."

"That's alright then." Sharpe grinned. He took a seat at the table. "Soldiers will fight, drink and loot. Long as they do the fighting right, they can do the other as they want. Simple rules to keep them in line, never get drunk except when told to, never steal except from the enemy, and fight like the bloody devil himself. Keep 'em to those rules."

"Our rules differs slightly." Faramir said thoughtfully. "But there's not two army that works in the same way. Our army differs as well, and you make the rules to fit the army."

"Bloody Frogs didn't seem to have any rules." Sharpe frowned. "Not some of them anyway."

"There are always exceptions." Faramir smiled. "We are lucky to have a good leader who leads by example. And he sets a good example."

"Who's the leader for the army then?" Sharpe asked, if Faramir had said anything about it, he could not recall it.

"Our King, Aragorn." Faramir told him. "He leads the army."

"You got your King leading the bloody army." Sharpe asked baffled. "You've got to be joking. What'll the King going to do there, sit ands wave at them."

"Our King would wave a sword at them." Faramir smiled.

"Kings doesn't bloody fight." Sharpe objected, shaking his head bewildered. "Never seen a bloody King fight his own battles. Wouldn't need soldiers if they did."

"There are as many different kinds of Kings as there are different kinds of armies." Faramir smiled warmly. As rough as his language might be, he enjoyed talking with Sharpe. The man was a most amusing companion.

"Figures." Sharpe said with a half snort, half chuckle. "Anyway, I told that thing ye taught me to Harris, he didn't think I would know something like that. Didn't believe what he was hearing."

Faramir smiled bemused, he could see why Sharpe found that so amusing. "I can make sure to teach you some more of that before you get back to him, see if we can make him even more confused about it."

"Whatever ye have. It'll show that scribe that he's not the only one who can speak bloody Frog."

"I think I know something that would be suiting." Faramir thought about what he had and another man had found. The two of them had shared the burden of a heavy loss, and they had found something that was very fitting, yet Sharpe here would want it in French and not in the German tongue. "_Les bons amis sont ceux qui sont allés pendant cinq minutes et vous  
les manquez pour une éternité_." He said with a soft smile.

"What is that?" Sharpe frowned, he stood no chance of figuring out the translation on his own. He repeated the phrase anyway, and Faramir thought that he was actually quite an adapt student. His first try, and ha had it more or less right.

To make it easier he repeated the phrase once again. "Good friends are the ones that are gone for five minutes, and you miss them for an eternity." He translated.

Sharpe frowned, he shared friendship with his men, but was it a friendship that affected them in that particularly way? They trusted each others with their lives without a second thought, risked their lives for each other with even less thought, but Harper never sat around biting his nails whenever Sharpe was out of sight.

Yet maybe it did fit in on them, for what was it that made those men risk so much when Harper had taken them with him to rescue Sharpe. Officers was never loved in a way that made the men risk so much for them.

The soldiers never cared if they lost an officer, there was always more of them, to many of them. So why had Harper and the others been prepared to brake him out with force when they thought he would be hung for murder?

He repeated the phrase again. "Bloody stupid thing to say, but I think I know what you mean with it."

Faramir smiled to himself, he suspected that Sharpe would see the truth in it. Even if it looked different for everyone.

"Must have been some bloody philosopher who said it." Sharpe frowned. "Or some bloody poet or other bugger."

I think it was someone who wanted to express his love for his friends." Faramir said with a smile. "If you can understand what was said, it was most likely not a philosopher who said it." He added with a grin.

Sharpe looked at him as if he was surprised to see the more solemn man make such a joke, then he laughed. Now he knew why he liked him. Faramir was an easy man to speak with, he did not bother about proper rank or behaviour. He was not like the officers who would not keep friends beneath their rank, and he was not one to look down on you because he was more schooled.

Sharpe could read and write, and could even do sums correctly, more than most with his background could, yet he was slower than at it than those with proper schooling. Harris could add sums in his head that Sharpe could barely do on paper, at first Harris had used a superior attitude towards him because of it. Even to suggest that his ability to read and write might be more than Sharpe could manage.

Sharpe had been taught to read in a prison cell in India, reading from a page torn from the bible, and practicing his letters on the sand floor. He was ever grateful to the officer who had taught him. Even more so to the colonel who had believed in him.

It had not been a common sight, the colonel who was strictly against harsh language, drink or any kind of fighting that did not include the Frogs. Then Sharpe, for whom it was a struggle to say a full sentence without swearing, who enjoyed nothing more than to get blind drunk or fight with anyone at all.

They had carried an odd respect for each other, and it was that respect that had allowed them to work together successfully.

He and Faramir carried much the same respect for each other, one mans strength against the other mans weakness, and so Sharpe decided that it was worth remaining there a few moments for the company.

Propping his rifle against the table he sat down.

This tale is too long for one single chapter, so here shall be a temporary ending of the chapter as well as the temporary ending that all readers would be used to by now. Both temporary endings shall be terminated next week, thought it will only be temporarily as we even then shall have to make a temporary ending before the following week.

* * *

Earendil Eldar: Glad you enjoyed the break, as soon as you involve politicians of any kind, record breaking stupidity is what you get. I think some of them use it as a trademark. Oh, yeah, Hobbits settling for one meal each day, that would be the day, eh? Also, the Kingdom of Dust is the place where anything can happen, and as long as I am writing this, it probably will as well. ;)

Silver Sniper: Yes, it would have been amusing to see real Japanese, but we decided to stay on the safe side, maybe we can elaborate it later, we shall see. At the time being I don't think that Aragorn would want to get rid of the desk, it would take all the excitement and challenge away. It might be annoying, but it is an annoyance that sometimes lets him laugh, unlike the councillors and the nobles, who are only annoying.

Legolas's Girl 9: I hope you could convince Legolas to let you go, you should take him to the library, spend some quality time together.

Lady Elbereth Tealrose: I will try to use the stuff you gave me later, when I can plan its use better, for now I settled for this, I thought you would enjoy the reference. Also, we do know how the desk works, and at some point it shall be revealed.

Lindahoyland: I was hoping you would enjoy the paperwork, you do seem to like that. I have also done my best to comply with your wish, here you have Aragorn meeting Sharpe, what Sharpe's opinion of him as a King is remains to be seen. It shall also be interesting to see how you like the book. One more thing, you have those two perfectly, if you are over any top, it is the one of perfection, and that is why I love reading your story so much. You are the kind of writer I day dream about being, the one that can enchant their readers. At them moment I count a quick laugh from the reader a great success, you have us utterly enchanted.

Steelelf: Glad you found it acceptable even with the Manga. I have seen Manga I would rather I had not seen, and Manga I have looked both twice and more at. I am a big comic fan, so I had to check it out. Still, I hope that this was more to your taste then, since you are such a loyal reader, I would really want you to have enjoyed what you have read.

* * *

Here I would like to thank everyone who reads my works, thank you.

Here it must also be said that in the tale "A Two Colour Chain Mail," we started the vote based on the fact that Sean Bean and David Wenham made the perfect image of two brothers. We also got plenty of agreement on that.

So here it is, if you agree with us and think that they should be real brothers. Say so in your review. It shall be your vote. On my authors page, in the bio I shall keep score. When the score reaches 100, they shall be declared official brothers. Then on my authors page shall be an official declaration written by Elenhin and Celebrion.

Then the truth can not be denied, they shall be brothers.


	45. King George Commands, Eh, Sorry, King Ar

Author's Note: This is a bit of a joke that I wrote with the help of a friend. We thought that Faramir was skilled at different languages, and wondered just what languages he could speak.

Trying to think of as many as possible, and writing a story on each. Some languages will be from Lord of the Ring, some will not, but we will name them and where they come from. So Have no fear

Sharpe is back, since so many seemed to enjoy him. This time the language Latin.

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Ring, I only borrow parts of it and shall return them as soon as I am done. Completely undamaged, as I am certain it will be impossible to see where we glued the pieces back together.

**As always when Sharpe appears here, warning for curses and such, also this is another time when there will be several parts.

* * *

**

A King For A Soldier chapter Two

King George Commands, Eh, Sorry, King Aragorn

It happened quite often when Faramir was in the library that the heavy door was pushed open and the King entered. It had happened one time when the Friar Carl was there. Since Faramir and his King shared the same love for the written word, it was very common for them to encounter each other in the library.

It also made the library the ideal place to search for the other, and as a result their wives were often able to search them out there as well.

Now the doors were not gently pushed open, they were thrown open with a force that made both men jump to their feet.

Sharpe noted that the man entering looked agitated, he had hair as long as Faramir's and of the same cut. He was dressed in plain clothes and a tattered cloak, and a sword hung at his hip. He moved with ease, and Sharpe thought how he most likely could use it.

Faramir looked at his King and knew that something would have to be wrong for the man to burst into the library like that.

"Orc's have been spotted near a village about four days ride from here." Aragorn explained. "We're moving out within an hour Faramir, hurry and get your weapons."

Faramir let out a curse.

"Orcs?" Sharpe asked with a look at Faramir.

"Our enemy." Faramir explained hastily. "Foul creatures, slaughter everything that's in their way."

By now Aragorn had realized that Faramir had not been alone in the library, but had, had company.

Faramir decided that it was not the time for a lengthy introduction, but that a swift one was still in place.

"My Lord, this is Sharpe, a friend of mine and a soldier. Sharpe, this is Aragorn, my King."

"You gonna fight em' buggers?" Sharpe asked with a nod to Aragorn.

"We are going to fight them." Aragorn nodded. Taken aback briefly by the choice of words. It was hard to tell what to think about this man, he was dressed oddly in trousers and jacket that was of an almost indecent cut, as closely as they held to his body. He looked like a ruffian, and he had a scar on his cheek that gave his face a ruthless look. His dirty blond hair was cut shorter than most men, but it was a sword that was hanging from his belt, and he had something else slung over his shoulder, something that Aragorn could not even guess what it was.

"We will be riding out within an hour, and we should come up against them a day from now."

"Can you use an extra man?" Sharpe asked.

Aragorn had to admit that he was surprised by the offer, he was not used to people who just offered to join in on a battle, but Faramir did seem to have some strange friends.

"Curious to see how we fight?" Faramir smiled gently.

"Aye, if you need to fight the bloody buggers, I can lend you a hand." Sharpe grinned and looked at Aragorn, tilting his head a little.

Aragorn shrugged, if Faramir vouched for this man, than it was really all he needed to know. He trusted the judgment of his Steward any day.

"You are welcome to join us if so should be your wish." He agreed. "Faramir, will you find him a mount?" He then asked.

"I will." Faramir promised. "Please follow me." He then said to Sharpe. "I only have to tell Eowyn I am going and pick up my weapons."

The three men hurried out of the library. Eowyn already knew, she had his sword and bow ready for him, and Faramir only needed a few minutes to change into his ranger's gear. Then he brought Sharpe with him to the stable to find him a mount.

The force that rode out was not the full army, only a few handful more than believed necessary. Aragorn would not leave Minas Tirith with no defense. Not that it really was as Eowyn was still there.

Anyone wanting the city first had to get past Eowyn, and as Faramir and Eomer both readily testified, getting past an angry shield maiden of Rohan was not an easy feat.

They rode until the light failed, and then they set camp, arranging for piquet and cooking pits so the men could eat and sleep safely.

Now Aragorn had time to move over and see more of their newest addition to the army. Sharpe who was seated close to Faramir. The man was receiving some odd looks, but he did not seem to pay any heed of them, as if it did not bother him the slightest. He sat there grinning. Most men who knew a battle was coming showed some nervousness, but this man did not. It was the same way it had been with Boromir, the Gondorian warrior would be almost eager. He would sit and laugh and joke. Making sure that the Hobbit's spirits did not fall. This man had an eager smile as well, as if he longed for a fight, and who knew, maybe he did.

Aragorn went over to them and sat down on the ground. Faramir was occupying himself with readying a spare bowstring, and checking the fletching on his arrows.

As Aragorn sat down Sharpe looked up with a grin. Faramir had warned him that there were some things that he did not know about the Kingdom of dust, and Sharpe was not about to tell him first off. He had yet to see a King that was also a worthy man.

"You don't regret your offer to help?" Aragorn asked politely.

"Afraid I cant handle it, and will turn and run?" Sharpe asked with a chuckle. "Nah, I ain't gonna do that. I wanna see if those buggers are as bad as your men say."

"You have not fought Orcs before?" Aragorn frowned. "They are worse than men, it takes a lot more to slay them. They show no mercy, and they fight until the last breath. They have the size and strength of at least two men put together."

"You ever seen a Yeti fight?" Sharpe asked with a grin. "Big fat bastards, saw em twist a mans neck round his head." Sharpe moved his fingers in a circle as if to demonstrate. "And drive a nail into his head with his fist. They said you could not defeat those, that they were too strong, and you did not have a bloody chance against them, but the buggers are so bloody fat, they cant move fast enough to kill ya."

Faramir hid an amused smile behind a hand, Aragorn looked quite confused. "He has an interesting way of speaking, I am sure you will agree." He said, not fully able to hide his amusement. "Yet he thinks the same of us and our more formal way of conversation."

"Aye, you talk like a bloody Frog half of the time, and a bloody Philosopher the other." Sharpe grinned. "Haven't heard you talk like a soldier yet."

"My brother did." Faramir smiled. "And we have both heard him do it, have we not my friend?" He asked Aragorn.

Aragorn nodded, this was a strange man, very strange. Yet likable with his more than rough manners. He doubted that this man could be made to do anything he did not want to do, and he was most likely fierce in a fight. Yet he seemed very likable and trustworthy, and Aragorn was willing to try and look past the rougher spots.

"How long have you been a soldier?" He asked, he had the manner of one who had been a soldier for quite some time.

"Most of me bloody life." Sharpe grinned. "Joined up to get away from the bloody magistrate, and I've been there ever since."

"How old were you then?" Aragorn asked. He did not like it when the young ones was forced to fight, it happened too often, and it sounded like something of the sort had happened to this man.

"I would have to know when I was born to tell ya that." Sharpe snorted. "Doesn't make any bloody difference either. If ye want to know where I learnt fighting, it was in the gutters and the gin houses. I could fight before I joined, and I can fight now. You're the commander for the army as Faramir says it, and you want to know if I really can fight. Aye, I can, and ye wont see me running."

"I do not think so." Aragorn hurried to say. " But if you are a friend of Faramir, I would like to call you a friend of me as well."

"You, a bloody King. You'd call yourself a friend to me." Sharpe asked baffled, and it was the first time Aragorn had seen him surprised at all. "I'm a bloody bastard, my mother was a whore, and that's all I know. Ye shouldn't even be talking with me, should order me flogged just for looking ye in the eye like a proper King would."

"I would never flog a man for that." Aragorn said disgusted. "I don't punish anyone unless he has committed a crime. You are a strange man Sharpe, but I rather like you, I would like to call you friend."

"Sometimes the difference between armies are bigger than you would think." Faramir shrugged. "It all depends on who is in charge of it I guess. "

"Wellington is a great commander." Sharpe stated. "He's a devil for getting his way in a fight. Em' bloody Frogs haven't got a chance against him. He knows how to get the lads to follow him alright, and he doesn't do it just by flogging, like some of them other buggers do."

"You have been flogged?" Aragorn said softly. He could tell it by the way the man spoke about it. It was not something he was disgusted over, it was something that was, and when it was deserved this man approved of it, but it sounded as if he himself had been flogged unjustly.

"I was flogged alright." Sharpe said with a grin, as if it was something that could not be made to bother him. "I was flogged for something I never did, because a bloody bastard wanted me out of the way. Two hundred and three lashes."

Faramir felt sick over the thought of so many lashes, it was inhumane, it was to much of a death sentence to him. He had heard about death sentences being dealt out through flogging, and it was a very cruel way.

"Why?" Aragorn asked simply.

"Was supposed to be until death, but then they needed someone for a suicide mission, I suppose they did not think it mattered much how I got killed, so they stopped the flogging providing I went." Sharpe grinned at the memory. "Was one of the officers that was supposed to go over to the enemy and claim that he had deserted. He wanted to have a soldier with him, for it."

"And you agreed to it." Aragorn nodded.

"Aye, course I did, would've sent me back to the flogging if I hadn't." Sharpe met Aragorn's gaze. "That officer taught me how to read and write there in a prison cell, if he had not done that, I would never have become an officer."

"They won't promote you if you can't read and write." Aragorn nodded. It made sense in a way. He was just not used to the concept of not being able to read and write.

"I can do it alright now, and Harris a bloody scribe, talking bloody Frog half the time." Sharpe grinned. "I pick up some stuff here and there."

"I think I know something more that Harris would find amusing." Faramir said smiling softly. "_Inter arma silent leg es_." He smiled at Sharpe. "Its Latin, Among weapons the laws are silent."

Sharpe chuckled at him. "That's for sure. Ain't no better way I know of to shut a fellow up then to stick a rifle in his face."

Sharpe quite looked forward to the fight, he wanted to see how these men would fight. They had no rifles and no muskets, but unless those Orcs were better armed, it should be a fair enough fight. At the very least it looked as if he would finally get a good fight, the bloody army had been sitting still and there had been no fighting for too bloody long.

It was good to be here, Faramir was a nice enough fellow, and even if the King was strange, well, Sharpe was used to a lot worse. What Faramir had said was true, but Sharpe had never bothered too much about laws as such, and it took weapons to enforce them most of the time anyway.

Sharpe would show them how a soldier in the British army fought, and it would be a pleasure.

This is the second part of this tale, and I hope you were all able to enjoy it, now there is the usual temporary ending until next week. Then we shall find out just how Sharpe fights, and it will be interesting enough I hope, until then, fare ye all a pleasurable temporary ending.

_Prononunciation Guide by Celebrion:_

_I'd say he'll ride out with a bang, so to speak..._

_Not much for me to do here, as seeing how that quote is from the great speaker Cicero of the Roman Empire and no one knows how they talked back then..._

_See you next week!_

Earendil Eldar: I'm beginning to feel as if I am ramming my head against a solid brick wall for every chapter here myself. I love doping this, but at the moment I am hard pressed for ideas and inspiration when I'm writing. Sharpe is great though, he certainly has a softer more considerate side to him, and he is fairly good at hiding it behind a rough exterior and a lot of cursing. Still, for a lad born in the gutter at this time, he has done well, and has done many good deeds.

Lady Elbereth Tealrose: Sharpe is very funny, and you can read the books as well, but I do recommend seeing the movie before reading, you will want to have a clear image of Sean as Sharpe when you read, for he truly fits the role so well. There is a reason why one of the books is dedicated to him after all. As for writing, I keep telling ya I wont stop, and you have not done bad yourself in that regard, my dear padawan, scout, and also little sister.

Lindahoyland: I thought you would enjoy Faramir and Sharpe, and of course Aragorn has to be there as well, it would not work any other way. As for those words that apparently made you blush, they were true all of them. Ah, and yes, you have to love that officer, he takes quite good care of Sharpe, and they are hilarious together.

Steelelf: Sharpe is a bloody bugger ye cant help but like. Comics and fanfics are good, I grew up on Dennis the Menace and Mad Magazine, maybe this is why I'm writing things like this now, eh? I'm very happy that you liked it.

Legolas's Girl 9: Sounds like you are in a bit of trouble there, maybe if you ask nicly Sharpe will let you borrow his picklock.

Silver Sniper: Ah yes, the temporaryity of this, we all like it. As for our skills we have help at times, as will be stated in the authors note, and about punctuality, I am punctual out of fear that all the readers shall be angry on me if I am not. Sometime I really must get some confidence, but as of yet I have not been able to. I am terrified of failing you every week, so it is my hope that you like this.

* * *

Here I would like to thank everyone who reads my works, thank you.

Here it must also be said that in the tale "A Two Colour Chain Mail," we started the vote based on the fact that Sean Bean and David Wenham made the perfect image of two brothers. We also got plenty of agreement on that.

So here it is, if you agree with us and think that they should be real brothers. Say so in your review. It shall be your vote. On my authors page, in the bio I shall keep score. When the score reaches 100, they shall be declared official brothers. Then on my authors page shall be an official declaration written by Elenhin and Celebrion.

Then the truth can not be denied, they shall be brothers.


	46. Charge! No Charge

Author's Note: This is a bit of a joke that I wrote with the help of a friend. We thought that Faramir was skilled at different languages, and wondered just what languages he could speak.

Trying to think of as many as possible, and writing a story on each. Some languages will be from Lord of the Ring, some will not, but we will name them and where they come from. So Have no fear

Sharpe is back, since so many seemed to enjoy him. This time the language Latin.

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Ring, I only borrow parts of it and shall return them as soon as I am done. Completely undamaged, as I am certain it will be impossible to see where we glued the pieces back together.

**As always when Sharpe appears here, warning for curses and such, also this is another time when there will be several parts.

* * *

**

A King For A Soldier chapter Two

_**Charge! No Charge.**_

When the Orcs were just within sight Aragorn quickly ordered the troops. Sharpe took that time to look at them through his telescope. He had to look again, and again, never had he seen such hideous brutes. Well, a few officers he had run into had come close, not to mention the yeti. Yet those creatures were just too horrible.

He shook his head and tucked the telescope away again. He was not about to risk that, it was his most treasured possession. Nothing would make him risk that one.

"How do you kill them bloody buggers?" He asked Faramir who was readying his bow.

Faramir shook his head ruefully. "As many as possible with arrows, after that we have to use swords." He looked up at Sharpe. "We will lose many men here. It's the worst kind to fight."

"We'll show them how to fight then." Sharpe grinned. He was not one to back down for some buggers, no matter how ugly they were. "Won't be one of them standing when we're done."

Faramir shook his head again. Sharpe was a good man, but he was a cold soldier, he had been forced to be that way to stay alive. Faramir could understand that, but it was hard for him to understand how anyone could look forward to a fight. He had not understood that trait in Boromir, and he could not understand it in Sharpe either.

Maybe more in Sharpe than in his now dead brother, for Sharpe was a product of a harsh environment.

Boromir had never had to fight for his life every day before he joined the army, this man who had grown up in the gutters had done that. If you did not you died, and he was still alive. Now he was eyeing the Orcs with eager anticipation.

Sharpe was the kind of man who wanted peace for others, but not for himself.

Aragorn moved to the head of the force, taking a deep breath before calling for the attack.

"Charge!" His voice rang loud and clear, and Sharpe kicked his horse into moving. Slinging his rifle from his shoulder and cocking it. Raising it to his face, he had one shot, and he intended to make it count, for there would be no reloading it. The soldiers with their bows did not have time to look curiously at him, though one or two did so anyway.

A handful of Orcs fell from the arrows, then Sharpe fired. The loud bang took the others by surprise, and horses not used to the smell of exploding gunpowder smoke shied, but they continued steady, and Sharpe watched how the ugly creature went down. Slinging the gun back over his shoulder he drew his sword, and then he was in the middle of the creatures.

Sharpe was unseated from his horse as the creature reared, well, he was not used to fighting on horseback anyway. He did better on the ground. So he ran up to the first orc within reach, intent of slaying the foul beast.

The heat of the battle is a haze when there is no time for any coherent thinking. You hack and you slash, and you burry your sword to the hilt in a body. Sharpe kicked the corpse of an orc lose from his blade. Shouting curses and challenges to them.

Faramir had seen Sharpe's horse throw him, and had moved over to help. Used to Boromir and to the talks of barracks he nearly balked at the things the man was shouting, but he was fighting well enough.

A raw power that slaw anything that got into his way. Faramir watched as he took the head of an orc. Then he had to concentrate defending himself.

Aragorn, also looked to the man fighting on the ground, he too was surprised over the way Sharpe seemed to use curses as a weapon. The man fought like the devil, and sounded worse. Yet he was effective.

He was however more used to fighting men it seemed. Sharpe spun around, kicked the next orc in the crotch, something that would have felled a man, but the orc did not seem all that bothered. He dealt a blow that swatted Sharpe aside, and Aragorn feared that he would be killed then. Down on the ground with an orc looming over him.

Sharpe shouted a defiant curse, one of the worse ones he had used this far, reached to his side, and scrabbled for a hold on a spear that lay there. As the orc jabbed down, Sharpe lounged up with the spear.

Sharpe took a cut to his arm, but the orc suddenly found himself subject to a rather fatal kind of body piercing. The kind where a spear penetrated him front side to back side.

Sharpe scrambled to his feet with a half stunned expression, scrubbing the back of his hand over his face. Then he stumbled over to the next orc. It was back to hacking and slashing, and hoping that no one would be cutting and hacking him behind his back.

It seemed that he was lucky enough this day, he kicked the last orc away, or tried to. The bloody buggers were so heavy they hardly moved when you kicked them. Not like the bloody frogs at all. Yet he had to free his blade. There was always the possibility that one or two of the corpses were not really all that dead, but just looked like a carcass. If so, he wanted his blade free enough to do something about it. One more kick freed the blade.

He looked around and saw Aragorn there, the man was down on the ground and looking after the troops. He gained Sharpe's respect then. Because he obviously cared about his troops.

Faramir was coming over to him, wiping sweat from his brow.

"Are you well?" He asked.

Sharpe nodded, the slash in his arm could wait. Though Ramona, the wife of his sergeant would not be happy over having to mend his uniform again. She did the washing and mending for Sharpe, not because he demanded it of her, he would never do that. She had just claimed that it was her duty, and he could not say that he minded as such.

"You fight well." Faramir noted. "Orcs are the worst kind, evil, they kill for liking."

"I've seen men do the same bloody thing." Sharpe shrugged. "Seen men kill for a shilling and less."

"I wish there would be no need to fight." Faramir looked across the ground where the bodies of men lay scatted with the carcasses of orcs.

"But you do it well." Sharpe told him. He knew that reluctance this man showed, he had seen many men display it. "Tis no shame to fight and kill, not when it's to defend your country and your people. If ye didn't fight, those beasts would do worse."

Faramir nodded, it was the reason why he did fight.

"Come, we shall strike camp." He said. "We need to see to all the wounded."

Sharpe helped them to strike the camp. He would have tied a rag to the gash on his arm, but once Faramir had caught sight of the tear in the sleeve and the blood soaked shirt, he found himself being dragged over to the King. There were only a few men then that had not been cared for already, and Sharpe found himself sitting on the ground while Aragorn took off his rifleman's jacket and rolled up the sleeve of his shirt.

This was not something that a King should do, and Sharpe had told them so. Only to have Aragorn laugh and say that he was a Ranger and a healer long before he was a King.

It was wrong, bloody wrong, but you did not order a King, so Sharpe gave in. He had to admit one thing. This King was better than any surgeon that had ever been with the British army. Sharpe would have thought he would either just clean it off and bind it up, or just burn it shut. It was what was usually done to this kind of wounds.

Aragorn cleaned it of, but he also stitched it shut before smoothing a salve over it. Neat and tidy with a clean bandage.

Sharpe would not try and deny that he was grateful, he was, and now he understood how Faramir felt about his King. A King, who seemed to care about every single man who marched in his ranks, that was something special.

Faramir was still looking out over the grounds. The men who had not been hurt was now taking care of those who were injured or dead. Stacking the orc's carcasses in a pile. They would be burned later. Their men would be buried.

"_Vae mortuis._" Faramir sighed.

"You talking bloody Frog again?" Sharpe frowned.

"No." Faramir shook his head. "Latin, 'Woe to the dead.'" He turned to Sharpe. "It may be that they only pass beyond the veil, but I still woe that so many was lost.

"I know some of that bloody Latin." Sharpe grinned. "_Campus gloriae._ There will always be many dead if ye fight. But it's a 'field of honor' just the same. Their honor, for they're the ones that sacrificed themselves for others. The real honor of a won battle does not fall to the commander or to some bloody King. It falls to those who gave all for others." He gestured across the grounds with his arm. "It's their honor alright."

"You might not believe it my friend, but you speak more like a poet than one would think." Faramir found himself smiling.

"I'm a soldier, not a bloody scribbler of any kind." Sharpe stated firmly. "All I know is how to fight, and I don't care about anything else."

He looked around them. "I'll give you one thing though, your King's not so bloody bad as one might think."

"He's a very good King." Faramir agreed. "I'm proud to serve him."

"I took the King's shilling, so I fight for the bugger." Sharpe stated. "I fight for him alright, but he wouldn't think twice of sending me to die on a whim, I don't think yours would do that."

"He would not." Faramir agreed.

"Better keep him alive then." Sharpe grinned. "Wouldn't want to get some other bugger instead."

Faramir laughed at his friend's wry grin, it was how this man expressed emotions, and Faramir could read the praise in his words.

"I'll even give ye a hand, no charge." Sharpe grinned.

This was the third part, and unless something very strange, (read, stranger than usual in this thingy,) happens, it will also be the last part of this particularly tale. No matter what happens it will be a temporary ending here until the next week, until then, may Sharpe be with you.

_Pronounciation Guide by Celebrion:_

_I like Sharpe, he's deeper than he thinks._

_At last there is something to actually put here!_

_The advise of today is... drumroll ... that 'Vae' should be pronounced as it's spelled, with 'e' as in 'wet' and a hard 'v'. 'Gloriae' on the other hand is NOT pronounced exactly as spelled, the 'ae' here is pronounced only as 'e' in 'wet'! Latin is very strange indeed..._

_Have a happy week!_

Earendil Eldar: Does it not sort of depend on the wall? I mean, a paper thing titanium vs a mile thick brick wall…. If you want life to get interesting I suppose you could go for the great wall of China, but I have a sneaky suspicion they might not appreciate that. Reading outside is very nice, if you pick the right tree to sit and read in, a squirrel will come and peak at you at about five am. I really like that.

Lady Elbereth Tealrose: The books are really great. I recommend starting at the beginning. With Sharpe's Tiger I think it is called. By Bernard Cornwell. Very good author, I truly enjoy reading what he has written, and I think that you would like it as well.

Lindahoyland: Glad to be of service, it was the least I could do for you, and Sharpe has some higher thoughts about at least one King now. Aye, he fight a few of those, in Sharpe's Tiger it should be, you will love that one, he tries to teach a small Indian boy English, sort off. As for the Yeti, he gets asked in one of he movies if he has ever dealt with a Royal bodyguard before, they were going to get one to use as soldiers. Sharpe was saying, 'Aye, the Tippo Sultans bodyguard, I dealt with them alright.' He got asked if he had killed them, and went, 'Aye.' They did not count on a victim fighting back, big mistake when dealing with Sharpe.

Saerwen: Glad you liked all of them chapters, hard to comment on all of it, and we took a lot of it when you were reading. Still, points goes to you for being the closest at guessing the true meaning of Lord Demeni's name, and also for being the only one who guessed. Take care now.

Silver Sniper: School, one thing I absolutely hated in school was being in school… Several reasons, but school and I never went well together. Glad as always to hear that we could bring a bit of cheer thought, as for punctual, how many times do you think I have been going, YIEKS update, late at night? It is a few. Still, here it is once more.

Legolas's Girl 9: How can you be outside in a wagon, and what are the dwarves doing there? I hope they are nice to you.

* * *

Here I would like to thank everyone who reads my works, thank you.

Here it must also be said that in the tale "A Two Colour Chain Mail," we started the vote based on the fact that Sean Bean and David Wenham made the perfect image of two brothers. We also got plenty of agreement on that.

So here it is, if you agree with us and think that they should be real brothers. Say so in your review. It shall be your vote. On my authors page, in the bio I shall keep score. When the score reaches 100, they shall be declared official brothers. Then on my authors page shall be an official declaration written by Elenhin and Celebrion.

Then the truth can not be denied, they shall be brothers.


	47. happy hobbits

Author's Note: This is a bit of a joke that I wrote with the help of a friend. We thought that Faramir was skilled at different languages, and wondered just what languages he could speak.

Trying to think of as many as possible, and writing a story on each. Some languages will be from Lord of the Ring, some will not, but we will name them and where they come from. So Have no fear

This time the Hobbits are back, as everyone seems to enjoy them, at least Merry and Pippin is back. Also, this time we have chosen to use Swedish.

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Ring, I only borrow parts of it and shall return them as soon as I am done. Completely undamaged, as I am certain it will be impossible to see where we glued the pieces back together.

* * *

**_Happy Hobbits_**

Aragorn could not hide the fact that he was excited, it was not all that often that the Hobbits traveled all the way from the shire to Gondor. Yet this time they had done it, and they were to arrive during the day.

Aragorn was actually pacing back and forth and Faramir was chuckling goodheartedly at him for it. Teasing him that the King should not show such nervousness.

"I'm just so eager to see them." Aragorn noted. "I know it's only Merry and Pippin coming, but still. I have missed them all so much."

"I don't think there is anyone who did not miss them." Faramir pointed out. "The cooks won't let anyone into the kitchens as they are preparing a feast. Even taken the famous hobbit appetite in account, they will be hard pressed to eat all that food."

"Pippin will certainly try." Aragorn snorted. "That lad can eat twice his own weight in food at every meal."

"I know." Faramir smiled. "Father always believed that there was no one who could eat more than Boromir, claiming that he ate as much as a starving army all by himself. But I doubt he could win over Pippin."

"The two of them very pretty equal in Rivendell." Aragorn noted. "Pippin latched on to Boromir as soon as they met. I think he felt over looked and ignored most of the time. Boromir always had time for him, not to mention how he always had something squirreled away for Pippin to snack on between the meals."

"He did the same thing with me." Faramir said with a sad smile. "He always had some treat in his chambers, and when he was home I would go there in the evening. Then when he helped me improve my skill with the sword he did the same thing. He always had some sweets when I got it right. Even if we were really to old for it."

"At times I think he saw them as children suitable to be made into a herd of younger brothers." Aragorn laughed.

"More than likely." Faramir agreed. "It is the kind of thing he would do."

They were interrupted by the clear ring of silver trumpet, the sound that Boromir had spoken about with such emotion in his voice.

Exchanging smiles, Aragorn and Faramir hurried to great the hobbits. It was a greeting with many affectionate hugs going all ways around.

Then Pippin pulled himself partially lose from Aragorn. "Can we get something to eat now?" He asked with a big smile. "We've hardly gotten any food on the way, see."

"You shall have more food here than even you can eat my friend." Aragorn laughed. "There is a feast for the evening, and before then I am sure we could find something for you if you wish it."

Pippin's eyes lit up bright at the promise, and so they went inside. Ordering some refreshment to be fetched to the King's study for the time being.

Merry was digging around in his pack, even while chewing some cake he had his mouth full of. Then he retrieved a leather satchel.

"Here, this one is for you." He told Faramir with a smile. "See, we've been saving up everything we've found that we thought you would like."

"It's all kind of strange languages." Pippin said cheerfully as he reached for another cake. "We thought you'd like them. You're always going on about every odd language that there is ye know, and there you have some more of them."

"Sounds like something that should keep you occupied for a few moments." Aragorn laughed.

Faramir had already gotten out the first sheet of paper, even as he was thanking the two Hobbits for the trouble.

"Some of it's from Bagend." Merry explained. "Frodo and Sam didn't think Bilbo would care to see it lying at waste there, so they thought you'd have better use for it."

Faramir, in spite of his vast linguistic skills found that it was hard to find enough words to express his gratitude.

He took up the first paper and scanned it briefly. "Its Swedish he noted."

"What does it say?" Pippin enquired, as curious as ever.

"_Så skrikande, så längtansfult, så brådmodigt gingo he fram. Så med skutt han dansade. __Nedanföre galjeträdet. Tårpillen sörjer nu för dig._" Faramir first read the Swedish words from the page. Then he translated it for their benefit. "Sae rantingly, sae wantonly, sae dauntingly gaed he. He played a spring and danced around beneath the willows tree. The weeping willow weeps for thee."

"So sad." Pippin said moving closer to Faramir. "It was nice, like, but so very sad."

"I like it how the weeping willow wept." Merry said with a smile. "It made it beautiful in a sad way."

"It was very nice." Faramir stated and Aragorn agreed.

"Come now thought, think not of sad things at all." Aragorn encouraged them. "In just a few hours time the feast shall begin, and we all wish to be ready then."

Never mind that he was just swallowing the last mouthful. Pippin still shone up at the mentioning of food.

Since I would not want to make the Hobbits late for the feast, out of fear that they would be annoyed at me for missing out on the food, I shall insert the usual temporary ending here, and bid you all a pleasant time. As well as recommend everyone to temporary put a lock on the pantry since no food is safe now that the Hobbits are back.

_Pronounciation Guide by Celebrion:_

_Hmmm, Swedish... It's always hardest to work on here... As I have it as my mother tongue it's hard to really know how you shape the sounds without making it overdone..._

_Well, I'll try!_

Så skrikande, så längtansfullt, så brådmodigt gingo han fram. Så med skutt han dansade nedanför galjeträdet. Tårpilen sörjer nu för dig.

_Generally, Swedish is spoken further to the front of your mouth than English..._

_The 'g's are also harder except when written 'ng', then it's the same as English 'thi_ng_'_

_The t's are aslo harder, always. The 'i's are somewhat narrower than in English, as well as the 'a's. Think the famous British 'a', then make it harder, there's how we say it in Swedish. _

_The Swedish vowel 'å' is promnouced much like English 'oh', except as always, a bit harder._

_Swedish is a harsh language, I think it has something to do with the climat..._

_Ta!

* * *

_

Silver Sniper: Aye, we are at it again, and at an equal loss of words for how to express our gratitude. I just realize how many weeks one chapter every weeks makes. We have been at this for a long time now, I truly never can express how grateful it makes me to see that something I have done, has gotten this response.

Lindahoyland: It does seem as if Aragorn was able to give Sharpe a more positive view on some kings. Trust me, I would never kill of Sharpe, he is way to much fun, and to cute. Another adventure in the future does however sound nice, we shall just have to see what we can do about it, shall we not?

Earendil Eldar: I just hope I mange the posting process, not much more than two hours sleep, and a lot of meeting, and the scouts in an hour or two, I read your review, brought this up, and hardly remembers a word……..Ah, yeah, the spider, try threaten it with Sharpe, and the orcs yeah. If it was bad, I think Sharpe would kill first, and worry about how pretty they were later. He's met to many monsters in human form to be stopped by them, but it did make him pause for a second. Anyway, an arrow with a flat live head should kill that spider right of.

Legolas's Girl 9: Aye, you need to be careful or you'll never know where you might wind up.

Lady Elbereth Tealrose: Yeah, Sharpe sure has a very fun way of fighting, he tries to shock them to death with curses, and you know, I can't give you new curse words for every chapter. Sorry, but I just can't.

Z : Thank you so much for your vote, it has been added and fit in quite nicely with the earlier votes. As for the grammar, and mostly likely spelling mistakes as well, I am sorry for those. In the first few chapters my beta had not yet realized what a perpetual spelling disaster I am, and so these have more errors in them. Hopefully there is less in the later ones. I would however like to thank you very much for reading.

* * *

Here I would like to thank everyone who reads my works, thank you.

Here it must also be said that in the tale "A Two Colour Chain Mail," we started the vote based on the fact that Sean Bean and David Wenham made the perfect image of two brothers. We also got plenty of agreement on that.

So here it is, if you agree with us and think that they should be real brothers. Say so in your review. It shall be your vote. On my authors page, in the bio I shall keep score. When the score reaches 100, they shall be declared official brothers. Then on my authors page shall be an official declaration written by Elenhin and Celebrion.

Then the truth can not be denied, they shall be brothers.


	48. Massive Invasion

Author's Note: This is a bit of a joke that I wrote with the help of a friend. We thought that Faramir was skilled at different languages, and wondered just what languages he could speak.

Trying to think of as many as possible, and writing a story on each. Some languages will be from Lord of the Ring, some will not, but we will name them and where they come from. So Have no fear

This time we are back to Latin, and also the paperwork that seems to have it in for Aragorn.

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Ring, I only borrow parts of it and shall return them as soon as I am done. Completely undamaged, as I am certain it will be impossible to see where we glued the pieces back together.

* * *

_**Massive Invasion**_

Aragorn shook his head as he entered his office. One week away, one week with his wife and son. One week the King had escaped his office, and what had happened in that time?

Gondor was still flourishing. The grass was still growing, the people was still going on about their lives as they always had. It did not matter much to them that the King had been away for one week.

Most of them did not even know, and would not care if they did. It was simply not a big thing if the King was away or not, as long as someone cared for the country. At the moment it was Faramir as the Steward who was doing that. He was doing a fine job as well.

Obviously he was since the land was still in working order.

If you listened to some of the nobles, Gondor shut down every time the King turned his back.

You would think that by now they should have noticed it was not so. Yet they never did seem to learn that the King leaving for a few days was not a catastrophe. They seemed to think that the only way to sustain Gondor if there was no King for a few days, was to produce massive amounts of paperwork. As if he papers covering his desk could fill his place.

Next they would be having documents at the King's seat at state dinner.

Some of them were actually capable of it. Lord Demeni in particularly. That man was so absentminded that he would not even notice.

He shook his head in despair again.

"Sire, did you have a pleasant time?"

He looked up to smile at the combination between Steward and friend that was also known by the name of Faramir to most men.

"Very, but I now fear we face a massive Invasion. One we can not hope to win against." He said solemnly.

"Sire?" Faramir sounded worried, trying to figure out what invasion the King was talking about. He should have known if any army was marching on Gondor. There should have been reports of it coming in.

"Look Faramir." Aragorn pointed towards the deadly foe they were now facing. "See how they try to invade by sheer force, we shall never stand a chance against so many."

"Aragorn, that is your desk." Faramir pointed out tactile.

"No." Aragorn shook his head. "See, the desk is no danger as such, the enemy is covering the desk."

"papers." Faramir put in.

"And I think they mean to conquer Gondor." Aragorn went on. "Why else would they need to be here in such a big number? Faramir, I was gone for a week, and I know you've been here gathering all the work you could carry in that time, yet there is a real mountain here. Its not paperwork, it is an invasion force, and it has already taken over my desk, working on my study, and I fear that Gondor will be next."

"Papers do not invade." Faramir explained patiently while hiding a smile.

"They must do." Aragorn picked up a paper out of the pile. "I don't even know what this is. I can't read it."

Faramir stepped over to him. "Let me see Sire." He took the paper to read the words. "_Divide et Impera._" He read. "It means Divide and Conquer."

Aragorn gestured at the pile. "See, its not me, they are really trying to do it."

I fear I shall have to insert my temporary ending here, I would not, but I think I can hear the papers in my desk whispering, and I would rather crush any uprising before they have a chance to set their plans into motion. Take care now.

* * *

Earendil Eldar: Ah, no I did not know that, but generally when we have our scout meetings, its sound like Gollum time. One of the kids likes to go around like him, and even tries to do the Gollum biting at time, in jest thought. The Hobbits like Faramir, and they would not forgetter about him when they came.

Silver Sniper: The amount of food someone can consume is not always in proportion to their size. I still keep the school record of the student who ate the most in one sitting, and I was by no way the biggest kid. I was skinny then, but over ten years and my record still stands. As for this, I simply don't know how to end it, so many like it that I would feel to evil.

Steelelf: We thought it was rather sweet, glad to hear that you enjoyed it.

Lindahoyland: Most times you can guess pretty well at another language. Yes, they really enjoyed seeing their friends again, who would not. Ah, and I missed you a lot as well in that gap, I always do. So my guess was not all that far of the mark then, I am intrigued by your tale.

Lady Elbereth Tealrose: The two of them are indeed very funny.

Legolas's Girl 9: Ah, but I quite enjoy your weekly report of your whereabouts, its quite amusing to read. Feel free to comment on the chapter thought, if I know what you like I can try to give you more of it.

Here I would like to thank everyone who reads my works, thank you.

Here it must also be said that in the tale "A Two Colour Chain Mail," we started the vote based on the fact that Sean Bean and David Wenham made the perfect image of two brothers. We also got plenty of agreement on that.

So here it is, if you agree with us and think that they should be real brothers. Say so in your review. It shall be your vote. On my authors page, in the bio I shall keep score. When the score reaches 100, they shall be declared official brothers. Then on my authors page shall be an official declaration written by Elenhin and Celebrion.

Then the truth can not be denied, they shall be brothers.


	49. Mental Evason

Author's Note: This is a bit of a joke that I wrote with the help of a friend. We thought that Faramir was skilled at different languages, and wondered just what languages he could speak.

Trying to think of as many as possible, and writing a story on each. Some languages will be from Lord of the Ring, some will not, but we will name them and where they come from. So Have no fear

This time we are back to Latin, and also the paperwork that seems to have it in for Aragorn.

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Ring, I only borrow parts of it and shall return them as soon as I am done. Completely undamaged, as I am certain it will be impossible to see where we glued the pieces back together.

* * *

_**Mental Evason**_

Faramir sighed tiredly, the plan had been that when the King returned from his week away he would be feeling refreshed and would be more ready to deal with the royal duties again.

It had been a good plan, but good plans never did seem to work out so well.

He looked at the King. "Sire, come with me." He said as he took a hold on his King's kingly shirtsleeve, and thus dragging him along in an most unkingly manner.

Aragorn followed obediently behind his Steward while wondering what Faramir was actually up to.

Faramir lead the way to the Royal chambers, seeing as how he was fairly certain that he would come to find the Queen there. As he left for his study in the morning Eowyn had told him she would be going there to see the Queen. The two of them apparently wanted to catch up. Now he was thankful for it as it made her easier to find.

So it was that Faramir entered the chambers with Aragorn still in tow by his shirtsleeve.

Therefore it looked a slight bit funny as he went to one knee in respect for his Queen, never mind that he was still holding on to Aragorn as well, forcing him to bend down into an awkward bow as well.

"Faramir, it is so good to see you again." Arwen smiled

"It is good to see you again, my Lady. I hope that you had a pleasant time."

"Very much so." Arwen smiled, temporarily ignoring the fact that he was holding on to her husband. "Has he not behaved himself?" She then asked.

"I thought I sent him away so that he would rest, and yet he is acting even more strangely now." Faramir said shaking his head. "He had some odd things to say about his desk."

"Not that it was breeding papers again?" Arwen sighed with a look to her husband.

"No, actually this time he had a conspiracy theory about it taking over Gondor." Faramir informed her.

"Not the desk." Aragorn objected. "Only a fool would think that of a desk. It's the papers on it that are trying to take over Gondor."

Eowyn took in the scene with wry amusement. "Shall we send and ask for the aid of my brother then, so that we might defeat this mighty foe."

Aragorn's face lit up happily, and Faramir groaned.

"Eowyn, do not give him any such ideas." He pleaded. "It is bad enough as it is." He decided that there was no need to fear the King's escape anymore, and so let go of his sleeve. "My King thinks that his desk is plotting against his regime."

"Not the desk." Aragorn said exasperated. "It's the papers."

"The papers." Arwen noted with a nod and a small smile. "Are you trying to get out of taking care of them?" It rather sounded like a very bad excuse to her.

"No, I am just trying to make you see that there should not be that many of them." Aragorn sighed. "How does it come to be so many of them?"

"Ah, but you know what they say Aragorn." Faramir smiled. "_Verba Volant, scripta manent."_

"And what does that mean?" Aragorn asked with raised eyebrows.

"The words fly away, the written lasts." Faramir grinned.

"I'm sure the papers could be made to fly…." Aragorn said thoughtfully as he glanced towards the window. His study had windows as well, and those could be opened.

"No! Absolutely not." Faramir told him with a glare. "You are not going to throw all the paperwork out the window."

"But it would take care of the problem." Aragorn said optimistic.

"No Sire, it would not." Faramir hurried after him as Aragorn walked out the door.

Arwen and Eowyn smiled as they heard the two of them continue the argument down the hall. Aragorn sounding cheerful and Faramir more worried.

They exchanged a look that is the same no matter what language is spoken, the look between two females. "_Men_." Pronounced with a heavy sigh.

Since I heard something from at the window, and have some important papers I need to keep, I need to insert a temporary ending here and see what is going on. In the meantime, all of you take care.

_Pronounciation Guide by Celebrion:_

_Do you even open your study window enough for papers to fly out?_

_Well, we'll just have to wait until next week and see, won't we?_

_Let's just hope that next week's chapter don't end up flying around..._

Lindahoyland: I have noticed that you do seem to enjoy the paperwork stories, so I try to make one of those every once in awhile. Of course I missed your stories, they are great, I love to find another one of them when I turn to the computer in the morning. I might also add that your support has helped to keep this going, as Celebrion and I just realized what 49 chapters, with one each week means….

Earendil Eldar: Ah, yes, the papers had a head start on them, and it shall be quite something to deal with them. It is most likely true that if Faramir was not so skilled stealing the papers, Aragorn would be unable to enter his study. Fear not however, we shall not leave the King at the papers mercy, I am afraid that I've been a bit busy of late, I am sure I got the pics, but to stressed to be sure, as mentioned above we just realized what 49 chapters means, and now we have some stuff planned, and I am trying to make the time for it. Confusing? Aye, you should see it from my end, I hardly know what I write here….

Lady Elbereth Tealrose: Aye the Papers, they seem to have it in for the King. Have some faith in thy Master, Brother and scout master here my dear Padawan, sister and scout, I have no intention to stop writing anytime soon. Glad you like it though, more glad than I can say.

Steelelf: Papers can be most intimidating when they want to. I have a bunch of papers that actually scare me, but papers can also be out friend. I do not think many would have read the wonderful book that is The Lord of the Ring, if each page had been a massive slab of stone….. So let us be glad that there is papers, and just wish that there was less of the bad papers.

Legolas's Girl 9: Latin camp sounds lovely, we don't have things like that here. Regretfully, it would really be cool. Glad you are back home, many pleasant memories, eh?

Silver Sniper: School can be really evil, and that is not taking homework into account, I wonder how Faramir would coup with that? Thought he would come in handy in language class. I am as glad as ever to hear how much you enjoy this, those 49 weeks ago, I would never have thought anyone would like it as much as you seem to do.

Katieelessar: Ah, it is so good to hear that you are still reading, and I was happy to know what your favorite chapter was, and that you liked this last one as well. We hope to inspire some good laughs with our writing, and to hear that we have succeeded is even better. Thank you very much.

Here I would like to thank everyone who reads my works, thank you.

Here it must also be said that in the tale "A Two Colour Chain Mail," we started the vote based on the fact that Sean Bean and David Wenham made the perfect image of two brothers. We also got plenty of agreement on that.

So here it is, if you agree with us and think that they should be real brothers. Say so in your review. It shall be your vote. On my authors page, in the bio I shall keep score. When the score reaches 100, they shall be declared official brothers. Then on my authors page shall be an official declaration written by Elenhin and Celebrion.

Then the truth can not be denied, they shall be brothers.


	50. Mandatory Intervention

Author's Note: This is a bit of a joke that I wrote with the help of a friend. We thought that Faramir was skilled at different languages, and wondered just what languages he could speak.

Trying to think of as many as possible, and writing a story on each. Some languages will be from Lord of the Ring, some will not, but we will name them and where they come from. So Have no fear

This time we are back to Latin, and also the paperwork that seems to have it in for Aragorn. Also Carl and Ian comes by for a visit.

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Ring, I only borrow parts of it and shall return them as soon as I am done. Completely undamaged, as I am certain it will be impossible to see where we glued the pieces back together.

* * *

_**Mandatory Intervention**_

Faramir sighed exaggeratedly, was there no way to defeat this foe then? Was there no way to make this enemy yield?

Was this to be the end after all the battles they had fhought side by side.

He shook his head ruefully as he looked at his coming demise.

Beside him Aragorn bowed his head in defeat. "Well my friend, it has been a true pleasure to have you as a friend, but I fear the end has come. For I can not see how we could come out victorious this time."

"Sire," Faramir sighed again. His battle was not in all ways the same as Aragorn's. "Tis is not an army of Mordor we are facing here, but merely the fact that paperwork is not your strong side."

Indeed it was not, for even if the King worked harder than he should, he was not able to keep the amount of papers in check. His desk was a mess. Piles of documents reminding him of the Caradhras in their appearance, for they had risen into peeks, collapsed and fallen down in heaps and valleys. Ah, there to the corner was the Gap of Rohan, which meant that Minas Tirith was over there. He wondered where he would find the Elven Realm.

"Faramir, no man can be the master over that, it can not be done." Aragorn shook his head. "No, I am enough man to know when I have been defeated and to surrender when I stand no chance of winning."

"No sire, you only have much the same view upon it as my brother did. He was able to device a plan for dealing with it, after father forbid him to use a his sword on it that was."

"And pray tell me what he did come up with." Aragorn smiled fondly in spite of feeling his own demise weighing heavily on his shoulders. Boromir, the man would have seen it as a real enemy to be disposed of. He missed the noble man, and he prayed that he had finally been granted peace.

"It was simple, he decided to ignore it and leave it to me." Faramir wondered how he would be able to sort the mess out. "Now Sire, it is about time for tea, or elevenses if you happen to be a Hobbit. Go down to the kitchen and fetch us some and I shall start trying to sort this out."

"Or we could just lock the door and throw the key away." Aragorn suggested.

"No." Faramir shook his head. "I will not let you do that my Lord, now run down to the kitchen and fetch us some tea and honey cakes like a good King."

Aragorn snorted at the term 'good king' as well as that of Faramir and honey cakes.

"It would not be fair to leave you here with it." He noted.

"Do so." Faramir commanded. "It is no trouble for me, just do not return before you have some honey cakes. Now out of here so that I can start."

Aragorn laughed at being chased out much as a child would. Yet he went to find the honey cakes. If Faramir was able to make some headway in there, he deserved as many of them as he could eat. Or rather, as many as Aragorn could carry.

* * *

Faramir rubbed his hands together, trying to decide where to start. Near Rohan, or near his own city?

He had just sat down and picked up the first document when he heard the door creak open. He looked up, intending to scold the King for not obeying his command.

Then his annoyance turned to a smirk as he saw a certain Friar in the doorway. Looking for all the way as if he was fearing that a dust mite would attack him.

"Carl." He greeted warmly. "It is ever so good to see you here."

"Er, well, I had not intended to at the moment." Carl said carefully. "But I found someone and did not quite know what to do with him."

Faramir chuckled at his phrasing and his apprehensive expression. He could see someone behind the Friar, someone who seemed to be a bit nervous and tense. He could sense the nervousness from both men, so he stood and walked around the desk.

The first look he got of them man made him stop dead in his tracks, Boromir?

Ah, no, not Boromir, yet someone he had met before. A man he recalled because they had shared words of grief, but then he had been brought to him. Now he was here.

They made an odd contrast, Carl, a bit hunched and in his robes. Ian, with his stronger build, and his strange clothes. He wore those odd tunics and trousers. Low shoes instead of boots, and his clothes were more baggy than the fashion of Gondor, they hung loosely on him. It was his build and his features that made him so much like Boromir, the colour and the length of his hair. Those eyes, the exact same shade of green, and the way he knew they could sparkle with amusement.

Ah, but he looked hesitant, as if was not sure what was to come, and likely he had never experienced something like this before.

"Ian." He greeted to put him at ease. "It is a true pleasure to see you again."

Ian glanced over his shoulder. "That thing that just, was that the same as you did?" He asked carefully.

"Yes." Faramir nodded. "Do not worry, I have come to be used to it, and I can make sure that you are able to return safely."

Ian glanced over his shoulder again, running a hand through his hair, pushing it back and then letting it fall into place again. A habitual gesture. He seemed to compose himself a bit as he did it.

"So you two have done this before?" He asked.

Both of them nodded.

"Carl here was quite confused as well." Faramir stated with a smile. He introduced the two of them to each other more formally.

Then Carl just had to ask what Faramir was doing, with a glance to the desk.

Faramir sighed and tried to explain what happened if you combined the King with paper work. Carl looked a bit doubtful, and Ian had a small smirk playing on his lips.

It broke Faramir's heart anew to see how much he looked like Boromir doing so, and yet it healed the breaking to see the joy of life sparkling in his eyes. He was like a piece of Boromir reborn, and seeing him as such made it less painful.

"Can we help?" Ian asked, and it was not as much as an offer, as a request to be told what he should do.

While the two of them did not know how to handle the documents, Ian set about to sort them, and he had a skill for it that Faramir admired. He scanned the documents with keen eyes. Making it much easier for Faramir to deal with them.

Carl was able to nose out any facts, figures or paragraphs that Faramir might need from the books. There was no fear of revealing state secrets to someone who did not know the state. Ian was silent at first, careful, and Carl a bit shy, but as they worked they also grew to talk and to learn things about each other, even joking with each other as long time friends.

"This is not a state document." Ian said as he held up a parchment. "It's something else entirely."

"What is it?" Faramir asked looking up.

"Latin." Ian frowned. "_Donec eris felix, multos numerabis amicos._"

"As long as you are happy, you shall count many friends." Faramir translated with a smile and Carl nodded in agreement. "Very true."

They finished and Faramir took a fond farewell of both of them, praying that he would see Ian soon again as well as Carl. The two of them were very special.

* * *

Aragorn glared at the door to his study, to think that getting honey cakes should be such and impossible task.

What was the meaning of being a King then?

The cooks did not make any this day, and so the King had been all over Minas Tirith, trying every bakery until he finally found one that had some.

He felt bad for having left Faramir on his own for so long, on the other hand he had been commanded not to return until he had the cakes. So he pushed the door open.

It was near that he dropped he platter with the cakes.

His desk was nearly cleared from papers, and what was there was in neat piles. It was unbelievable.

Faramir looked up and eyed the cakes with a hungry grin.

"How did you do this?" Aragorn asked in disbelief.

"I shall not reveal my secrets, and most definitely not until I have gotten my cakes." Faramir grinned. So Aragorn relented and set he plate before him. He thought Faramir said something about having had help, but as his mouth was full of honey cakes it was really hard to tell, and he also thought he heard something about Boromir.

He shook his head and decided that having gone so long without the cakes must have affected him.

I shall have to make a temporary ending here as I need to put a guard on my honey cake supply. Ian and Carl seems intent of raiding my pantry as not to miss out, so until after the temporality, take care all of you.

_Pronounciation Guide by Celebrion:_

_Seems like a good idea to padlock my pantry aswell... I don't want my small supply of cookies get eaten by any other than me._

_Well, nothing to do here but doing some more betaing..._

_Ta!_

Earendil Eldar: He he, you know our updating routine almost better than we do. I would also advice you to keep an eye out, for we have something planned seeing as how we have come to an anniversary, you would not want to miss it, would you? Papers can be evil, now computers can be tricky as well, but at least they don't give you paper cuts. Still, at times I prefer pen and paper, but then I want to use my quill, real feather quill, very nice.

Silver Sniper: Yes, this was chapter fifty, and now I don't know how to stop this. I am not sure if I could bear it if it made someone disappointed, I would feel to evil. About as evil as the paper work. If they did burn it, I think the smoke would be hanging around to take revenge, never leaving their study's and such things.

Steelelf: Evil papers, best stay away from them. Oh, you got a hug-yourself-jacket, they are so nice. Not to mention the cozy soft-rooms they have at the nice hotel. I've been there a few times over those chapters, for some reason the men in those nice white coats think I need a rest there whenever they read my chapters.

Lindahoyland: Aragorn and Faramir can be so playful with each other when they get the chance. Faramir dragging Aragorn away, and sending him away on errands, it is really such c beautiful image of those two. Also, I love your tale, it is as wonderful as all of yours has been, and it is no less a delight to read your reviews. They make me feel as if I have finally done something right.

Lady Elbereth Tealrose: Aye, the next quest to mount doom will be to throw the paper work in, and Aragorn's desk will be there trying to stop them every step on the way……

Lalalalalala: We have always strove to make this funny, but I fear some chapters turned out better than others, also the beta had not yet then so there are more mistakes. I am very glad that you like it overall thought.

Saerwen: Well, when you do get this far, I hope that you enjoyed it, ah my poor Padawan, how evil I am and write so much you cant keep up. Love to have you reading anyway.

Here I would like to thank everyone who reads my works, thank you.

Here it must also be said that in the tale "A Two Colour Chain Mail," we started the vote based on the fact that Sean Bean and David Wenham made the perfect image of two brothers. We also got plenty of agreement on that.

So here it is, if you agree with us and think that they should be real brothers. Say so in your review. It shall be your vote. On my authors page, in the bio I shall keep score. When the score reaches 100, they shall be declared official brothers. Then on my authors page shall be an official declaration written by Elenhin and Celebrion.

Then the truth can not be denied, they shall be brothers.


	51. May it Bee a Beast

Author's Note: This is a bit of a joke that I wrote with the help of a friend. We thought that Faramir was skilled at different languages, and wondered just what languages he could speak.

Trying to think of as many as possible, and writing a story on each. Some languages will be from Lord of the Ring, some will not, but we will name them and where they come from. So Have no fear

This is a request chapter fro Fred, and we have been using the ideas he were kind enough to give us.

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Ring, I only borrow parts of it and shall return them as soon as I am done. Completely undamaged, as I am certain it will be impossible to see where we glued the pieces back together.

* * *

_**May it Bee a Beast**_

"My lord, there is a man seeking entrance into the citadel."

Aragorn and Faramir looked up at the Lord Demeni, he stood before them and looked flushed and even outraged. Well, it was the good Lord Demeni after all and he was a believer of a sturdy meal, or more if it could be managed.

In the same sense he was not overly fond of exercise, though he could not be called fat, no matter how you stretched the imagination.

It was however an odd thing to say, there were guards at the gates, but it was a more than rare thing that anyone would be denied entry.

"There should be nothing wrong with that." Aragorn said thoughtfully. "Is there something not right since you bring this to my attention?"

He had to admit that he was always a bit weary when the Lord Demeni was involved in anything, the Lord always acted with the best intentions, but the results were not always to match.

He had a tendency to say things that he did not really mean, when he meant to say something else entirely. It could be most amusing, but it could also be quite a problem at times.

"He says that he has brought a beast with him, and he intends to unleash it on the city." Lord Demeni blurted out.

"What kind of beast?" Faramir asked. What kind of beasts was it that could be controlled by men? Not all that many that he knew of.

"I know not, he has a covered wagon with him. My Liege, he must not be allowed to turn his foul beast lose on our beautiful city." Demeni pleaded with the King.

"Come Faramir, it is best that we ascertain what is occurring here." Aragorn decided.

"Aye, but sir, it may be dangerous." Demeni cried as he rushed after them. The two men was walking quickly, heading towards the lower circles.

"Ah, but I think that two Rangers should be able to handle themselves." Faramir smirked at the Lords worry. He just was not used to face down a foe, but he meant well surely enough.

Aragorn agreed, they both wore swords, they should be able to handle whatever was waiting down at the gates, especially since there were several guards there as well.

All the way down through the circles the Lord Demeni was rushing after them.

Then they came towards the main gate, and there was some sort of confusion there. An old bearded man with a very odd cap was standing beside a wagon and waving his arms widely as he argued with the guards. Shooting something at them, while they were commanding him back.

Faramir sniffed in the air, taking in all the sweet scents of summer.

"What is the trouble?" Aragorn asked. It was only a small wagon, what kind of monster could be hidden away there?

The man shouted something in a strange tongue, he sounded rather angry and Aragorn could barely make out a few words, what he thought was a few words, anyway.

"Hear my Lord, he has a beast there, one that will tear down this city." Demeni cried.

"Faramir, do you understand what he says?" Aragorn asked. A Balrog could tear down the city, stone by stone, but one of those would never fit inside the wagon. Not even a cave troll would fit inside the wagon.

An Uruk-hai could most likely be squeezed in, but it would be a tight fit.

"Aye, I think that I do my Lord." Faramir was smirking. He asked some questions to the man, in the same strange tongue, and Aragorn just shook his head. The two of them were answering and asking questions at a rapid pace for a short time. Then Faramir turned to Aragorn with a smile.

"It would seem that he was not talking about a 'beast' my Lord, but mainly some 'bees.' Nor did he have any desires to tear down our city, but mainly to enter and see if he could sell some honey. He is a beekeeper from a far way off and travels selling honey, he speaks French, and is not so good at our tongue it would seem. Hence he was misinterpreted."

"So there is no cause for alarm then?" Aragorn asked.

"Nay Sire, none at all, he merely wants to sell his wares." Faramir assured him, then he paused. "Sire, may we purchase some you think?"

I think it is time for an temporary ending here, since it shall now be impossible to make Faramir do anything before he has gotten some quality time with the honey. So take care all of you now and we shall see each other in a temporality.

_Pronounciation Guide by Celebrion:_

Bad, BAD mental image! Begone foul beast! fights off mental image with a tube of mayonaise

_cough Where were we? Oh, French, right... Wait.. No French? No French._

_As 'No French.' equals 'Nothing to do for me.' I'll see you all next week._

_Which by the way is our 1 YEAR ANNIVERSARY! Woot! Look out for something special!_

_Ta!_

Lady Elbereth Tealrose: I spent about fourteen years in school, I have a pretty good idea what the papers look like, especially since I was always on the edge of the system and always had to fill up papers to be allowed to stay where I were. We thought that Ian and Carl would be good enough on it to help Faramir. It seemed as if it was appreciated.

Silver Sniper: Monday, I'll have you know it was at least one minute past midnight….. Well, when I know Thursday will be busy, I try to get it up late Monday instead. As for keeping it up, well, we try, but as of after next chapter, our posting schedule will be slightly different. We'll explain it in the next chapter.

Earendil Eldar: Again, it was at least a minute or two past midnight, as it will be too this time now. Seeing as how it is 23:51 now, and it will be at least ten minutes before I have it up. You have a quill and don't use it, that's almost evil. I type more than I write, but I like to keep a notepad around for when I want to sketch out an idea. I find it easier to just sketch something out that way. As for the rest, Go Steelers!

Lindahoyland: Ah, yes, Faramir sending of Aragorn had me laughing as the idea popped into my head, and I just had to type it out. I don't know, but maybe if you make some honey cakes, Faramir shall come and help you with your desk. Ah, thank you, yes, I love it just as much every time the title is woven into the web of your words, how it turns out when you do it, and do you mean I am actually helpful? Wow, I was afraid I was more bothersome at times. But you and our dear Earendil Eldar are what I look to when I think about what kind of writer I want to be, the two of you are very good.

Steelelf: Aye, they are very nice those men, I kind of like this hotel. Who needs hotels with soft beds, when you can get whole soft rooms? I particularly like those jackets, cant feel unwanted when you go around hugging yourself the whole time. Well, we think that Ian may want to come back, what he will do then is anybody's guess.

Lirenel: It is a bit to read, aye. We have as noted come to the conclusion that with the next chapter we have been doing this for a year, and we will have an anniversary surprise then, so keep an eye out. It means a lot to know that you enjoy this, and I love the Sharpe books as well, I am thrilled that they are making a new movie of them. They are awesome, another writer I admire, and just recently I think we were able to make Lindahoyland enjoy their marvel as well.

* * *

Here I would like to thank everyone who reads my works, thank you.

Here it must also be said that in the tale "A Two Colour Chain Mail," we started the vote based on the fact that Sean Bean and David Wenham made the perfect image of two brothers. We also got plenty of agreement on that.

So here it is, if you agree with us and think that they should be real brothers. Say so in your review. It shall be your vote. On my authors page, in the bio I shall keep score. When the score reaches 100, they shall be declared official brothers. Then on my authors page shall be an official declaration written by Elenhin and Celebrion.

Then the truth can not be denied, they shall be brothers.


	52. Out Of Pure Insanity

Author's Note: This is a bit of a joke that I wrote with the help of a friend. We thought that Faramir was skilled at different languages, and wondered just what languages he could speak.

Trying to think of as many as possible, and writing a story on each. Some languages will be from Lord of the Ring, some will not, but we will name them and where they come from. So Have no fear

One Year, we have now kept this up for one year. This is the anniversary chapter, and thus we have a special treat planned. What that is, you'll find out at the bottom.

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Ring, I only borrow parts of it and shall return them as soon as I am done. Completely undamaged, as I am certain it will be impossible to see where we glued the pieces back together.

* * *

_**Out Of Pure Insanity**_

**IMPORTANT,** please read at the end of this chapter for more information about this anniversary chapter. Now please enjoy the chapter….

There are a few things that they say no man can resist, puppy eyes for one thing. Those big eyes of a small puppy that is begging for a morsel or a cuddle.

How do you deny them?

How do you deny two Hobbits that are standing there in the door with big eyes and a sweet smile, not to mention trays of hot tea and honey cakes.

If he had been able to resist them, that resistance died as it caught a whiff of those cakes.

Aragorn laughed cheerfully, it appeared that it was time for the afternoon brake, for it would be right impossible to make Faramir concentrate until those cakes were all devoured.

Not that he minded, the dust from the papers and the books made his throat dry, and he would love for a little of that tea.

Grinning he waved the hobbits over.

They took refuge at the couch in the corner of the study, as there was a table there, and as it made better seats for the much shorter Hobbits. That was one thing they had never complained about as far as Aragorn knew, they seemed to think that man-sized plates and serving trays were the best thing yet.

Ah but those beings were so special, so small, and they looked so fragile, and yet they could be so strong.

Pippin had dumped his tray on the table, lifting it up and pushing it in with rattling cups, then he had skipped over to Faramir, who was just finishing up a line, and dragged him over before he could even drop the quill.

Again Aragorn thought that Pippin displayed some of the same protectiveness Boromir had shown towards him and his cousin towards Faramir. Boromir had loved all his little ones, and now those little ones took care of each other.

Aragorn poured the tea since he could reach better and handed out the cups. The two Hobbits sitting on the edge of the couch, one close to each of the men. So that they could make them pass the cakes all the easier.

It was how an afternoon should be passed, Aragorn reflected. When left to themselves he and Faramir never got around to this. Afternoon tea then was a cup at your desk.

They could stand to learn a lot from the Hobbits.

"Have you looked through all that stuff that we brought for you?" Pippin asked. Making use of Faramir as support while he reached for the cakes. He wanted to distract the bigger man while yet there was one or two honey cakes left on the platter.

"Aye, I have looked through most of it." Faramir smiled at him, knowing what the little one was doing, and straining himself not to reach out for one more cake just yet. "At least briefly."

"Is there anything funny in it?" Merry wanted to know, more genuinely interested.

"Aye, a lot." Faramir smiled.

"Have you found anything you did not know yet?" Pippin asked mouth full. He wanted to know if there was a language Faramir did not know.

"Not so far, but I have a few books left." Faramir smiled.

"Are they here?" Pippin wanted to know. "If they are, why don't you check."

Taking one of the last cakes Faramir rose and collected a few books from the desk. He flipped through the pages briefly.

"Well?" Merry asked.

"I know all of them." Faramir told him. "Here is one in Swedish though, I have not encountered much of that."

"What does it say?" Pippin was practically bouncing with excitement.

"Hmm, I'll see." Faramir opened the cover. "It _is called The Language Tales_." He informed the others as he skimmed through the page. "It is written in Swedish, and seems to concern many other languages."

"It should really interest you then." Aragorn grinned.

"This is odd." Faramir shook his head. "It says something about having kept it up for a year, and one chapter every week."

"Who would do that?" Pippin asked confused. "It sounds really crazy." He was able to snag one more cake before Faramir took the last one.

"I don't know." Faramir shook his head in bewilderment. "It says something here about Elenhin and Celebrion here, I guess that it is them that has written it. Though I can't be sure, and whoever they were, they were clearly insane to come up with this." He shook his head again. "Clearly insane, rambling about a coconut for one thing."

"Never mind it for now then." Aragorn advised. "I would think that if they are insane they have been taken into care now, and I would much rather enjoy this time than worry about it."

"Aye, a very sound reasoning." Faramir eyed the empty plate on the table. "Do you suppose we could find some more honey cakes?"

This was the end of the anniversary chapter, and we here put a temporary ending to it to go and secure all things with honey and cakes combined, or none shall remain. I hope you all enjoyed it, and yes, Celebrion and I are temporarily insane.

_Pronounciation Guide by Celebrion:_

_Temporarily insane? _Temporarily! _My insanity is perfectly stable, I assure you._

_I cannot speak for yours though... _

_Anyway, here we are again... This week exatly a year was the first chapter posted here on compared to what is written this week that first chap seemed very crude. I hope that you think we've made progress too, we LOVE your reviews and to our readers we have a little something, but I'll let Elenhin take that bit._

_Hope you stay with us, we'll be here 'til Mount Doom erupts in flows of mayonaise! (Which DO come in tubes here in Sweden, although we have it in jars too...)_

_Tata! Next week we'll have an ordinary chapter ready for your leisure.

* * *

_

Okay, this was chapter 52, and this means we have been doing this for exactly one year. To celebrate this I have made six special wallpapers for you, our loyal readers. You can each have one of them, and the names as well as the characters are listed here below. Chose the one you want, and send a mail with the name of it, to the adress written on my bio page. I am sorry that I could not put it here, but apparently does not suport mail adresses in the posts. So please go to my bio page, and you have the adress there. I hope that you shall think them worth the extra click.

The choices are:

The Kingdom of Dust - Faramir and Carl in the Kingdom of Dust

The Not Yet Requested Copy – Faramir and Eowyn

Reminds Me Of Someone I Have Never Met – Faramir, Carl and Sharpe

Boromir? – Faramir, Boromir and Ian

A King For A Soldier – Faramir, Aragorn and Sharpe

A King Made Fool – Faramir and Eomer

Another important note is that we now have to change from weekly updates to more irregularly ones. I am very sorry about that, but trying to always have something on the same date has been to stress full. So now the updates will be whenever I have something, it may be more often and less often, and I am sorry about it.

That was everything, and I hope that you have all enjoyed it, take care now, and happy anniversary.

* * *

Lindahoyland: Faramir does seem to like honey, do try to lure him to you. Ah, you are right, I loved that connection to the web of thorns, poor Faramir, the web he is caught in sport deadlier things than thorns. Also, I loved Tristan and Isolde, I want to read it again, but I can not find a copy of it. And after every chapter I post, I look forward to reading your reviews. They are a true delight. 

Lady Elbereth Tealrose: Anniversary El, one year, one bloody year. Not bad eh. And I have not stopped yet.

Earendil Eldar: There seem to be no way to keep the good Lord Demeni away, does it. Ah, honey, actually I can not eat much myself because it is to sweet, but I love to use beeswax candles when I'm writing. Hmm, I'm just gonna have to figure out something for you where you have to use that quill. Maybe I should demand a letter, or a report on the Steelers progress or something from you. I hope they took a big win to make up for it. You have my sympathy for being busy, I am certain there is a mail from you I have not yet been able to reply to, had a bad week. I am however getting around to checking out the mailbox for any such mails, and you should have one from me really soon, with a few more backgrounds.

Steelelf: We have mayonnaise in many forms. I also might add that my scouts long since decided I should take up permanent residence in the soft rooms, they seem to think I fit there. Also, I find French interesting, but a bit to complicated, but it is rather good for making jokes of, so maybe it evens out. I think you would agree with Sharpe then, when he was asking if the spoke 'bloody Frog.' Thought I think the French might take offence from that, seeing as how he was actually trying to insult them.

Silver Sniper: And once again, we are very grateful that you think this good enough for reading, and could not care less if you are late. Though I feel sorry for you, that sounded like a real bother. As always, I can no more express my gratitude for those kind words, than you say you can find words. We are really grateful thought, it is a pleasure to write when I know you will be reading.

* * *

Here I would like to thank everyone who reads my works, thank you. 

Here it must also be said that in the tale "A Two Colour Chain Mail," we started the vote based on the fact that Sean Bean and David Wenham made the perfect image of two brothers. We also got plenty of agreement on that.

So here it is, if you agree with us and think that they should be real brothers. Say so in your review. It shall be your vote. On my authors page, in the bio I shall keep score. When the score reaches 100, they shall be declared official brothers. Then on my authors page shall be an official declaration written by Elenhin and Celebrion.

Then the truth can not be denied, they shall be brothers.


	53. Pick the Right Key

Author's Note: This is a bit of a joke that I wrote with the help of a friend. We thought that Faramir was skilled at different languages, and wondered just what languages he could speak.

Trying to think of as many as possible, and writing a story on each. Some languages will be from Lord of the Ring, some will not, but we will name them and where they come from. So Have no fear

This time we used Elvish, and Ian makes a guest appearance, this is for the reader who wanted to see Ian helping Faramir break into something.

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Ring, I only borrow parts of it and shall return them as soon as I am done. Completely undamaged, as I am certain it will be impossible to see where we glued the pieces back together.

* * *

Pick the Right Key

Faramir beheld the box on the table with a rueful expression. Ruefully because it was locked. Locked because it held honey cakes.

Or rather it held honey cakes, and it was locked because Eowyn and Aragorn claimed he was eating too many of them.

Needless to say, he did not agree, it was just that he enjoyed having a plate of them around as he worked.

He had talked the cook into making some for him, and had thought the box was a perfect place to keep them while he worked. Tucked away in cabinet so that he did not eat all of them at once. He actually could keep from doing that if he wanted.

It was just that Eowyn and Aragorn did not agree, and so they had locked the box, and taken the key, but they had left it there with him.

That was evil. He could see the box, almost smell them, but he could not eat them. It was cruel to know that they were there, so close, and yet out of reach.

It kept him from working, making it very hard for him to concentrate. He tried to distract himself by reading, but neither that went to well.

As a final attempt to get anything done he moved out of their sight and went into the library, _the_ _Kingdom of Dust_. Hoping that there he would find peace.

Well, at least he found something, not peace, but Ian. He looked out hesitantly from behind a bookcase at first, but when he saw that it was Faramir who came he stepped out from behind it.

"I had a feeling not everyone would understand how it came that I was here." He noted. "I do not fully understand it myself either."

"I have come to expect strange things where _the Kingdom of Dust_ is concerned." Faramir smiled. "It seems to be something that happens when the dust mites grow large enough."

"That would explain the one I just saw." Ian grinned, holding out a palm at waist height, as if measuring up a distance from the floor. "Aggressive thing, chased me into a corner, and I think that it was just a cub."

Faramir smiled, so the jokes about big dust mites were the same in many worlds.

"I have plans to train them." He joked. "I thought that they may be used to keep out intruders."

Ian snorted. "Train a few of those to attack, and you shall not be bothered again. If nothing else you could make them leap at someone's throat and choke them to death."

Faramir laughed, it sounded like something Boromir might say. "I am working of house breaking them now." He elaborated. "I think that I am making progress."

Ian pretended to look around.

"You just might, they do not seem to have left a mess anywhere. Congratulations, you seem to have found a working method for the training of dust mites."

"Maybe then I should train them to go after my King as well as my wife." Faramir muttered.

For a brief moment, Ian looked surprised.

"I keep some honey cakes in a box." Faramir explained. "But since my King claimed that I eat too many of them, my wife saw fit to take the key."

He heard Ian mutter something about women always locking in the cookies, but he could not be sure what he said. Then there was a twinkle suddenly showing in his eye.

"What kind of box is it?" He asked.

"A simple wooden box, but I do not want to break it." Faramir answered, uncertain what he was getting at.

"May I see it?" Ian asked with a big grin.

"Yes, of course you may." Faramir still did not understand, but he brought his friend with him to his study, and shoved him the box.

Ian admired the carvings on the lid, there was some odd scrip there. A flowing and beautiful carving across the lid. He brushed his fingers over it.

"What does it say?" He asked curiously.

Faramir grinned mischievously. "It is Elvish." He explained. "It says, _the good that may be found inside_. I thought that it was fitting in a way."

"Very." Ian laughed studying the lock, it was a simple lock, very simple. He fished out a lock pick from his pocket, a very useful item that, and slid it gently inside the lock.

One twist, one click, and the lid was open.

"How did you do that?" Faramir asked baffled. He had never seen anyone open a lock so fast with no key.

"My wife locks the pantry at times as well." Ian admitted a bit guiltily, there was more to it than that, years as a thief, but that explanation would do well enough.

One thing was certain, whoever had made the lock had not been used to those that might open a lock they should not rightfully do. It was in all reality to simple, but the cakes were very good. He could see why Faramir had not wanted to have them locked up.

Once more it seems that I need to run and check, for Ian still has his lock pick, and there is cakes in the pantry. Therefore I must run and see if there is any left of them, may you all fare a good temporarity until the next chapter.

_Pronounciation Guide by Celebrion:_

_Meep! My icecream! runs off for the kitchen_

_Ta! See ya next week!

* * *

_

Okay, this was chapter 53, and to celebrate the one year anniversary in chapter 52 we offered wallpapers. They are still available if you want them. Just pick one bellow, and then go to my bio page, send a mail to the address you find there with the name of the wallpapers you want, and I'll send it to you.

The choices are:

The Kingdom of Dust - Faramir and Carl in the Kingdom of Dust

The Not Yet Requested Copy – Faramir and Eowyn

Reminds Me Of Someone I Have Never Met – Faramir, Carl and Sharpe

Boromir? – Faramir, Boromir and Ian

A King For A Soldier – Faramir, Aragorn and Sharpe

A King Made Fool – Faramir and Eomer

Another important note is that we now have to change from weekly updates to more irregularly ones. I am very sorry about that, but trying to always have something on the same date has been to stress full. So now the updates will be whenever I have something, it may be more often and less often, and I am sorry about it.

That was everything, and I hope that you have all enjoyed it, take care now, and happy anniversary.

* * *

Lindahoyland: Oh yes, they made a very lovely image, we love them very much. I love writing this, but I'm afraid I had to change the schedule, and then now I was away, and that ate ever more time. Hopefully there wont be less chapters thought, but only less stress. I don't know if I remembered to say it before, but if you had any links to Tristan and Isolde, I would love them. I hope you enjoyed this now, take care.

Earendil Eldar: Putting the story in the story as you say, just seemed like the logical thing to do after a year of this insanity. He, go Steelers, I hope they score come Sunday. Ah, I'm really sorry for this taking time, but I've been worn out those days, when I got this done, I'll write you your mail.

Steelelf: A whole year yes, we were quite surprised when we realized that. Oh, and I don't have any pictures of the wallpapers, but give me a mail address, and I'll send you some of them, okay?

Silver Sniper: I feel guilty for the first update after the anniversary being so spaced out, but there was really nothing I could do about it, and I might add that it is you as the readers that has made it so very special. I never thought anything I did, would ever matter so much to anyone, so, as for the wallpapers, do you want me to just send them along to you?

Alex: It meant a lot to me to find your review, especially with the anniversary. I am very happy to know that you have been enjoying it. More so than I can say, and thank you very much for the vote as well. If you want one of the anniversary wallpapers, just drop a line to the mail address on my bio page, and I'll send you one.

Lady Elbereth Tealrose: There are more honey cakes here El, they seem quite popular.

Evermir: Its been amazing to do this, really, Evermir, I did this, and people like it, It's hard to comprehend. And as I said before, just had to throw us two in and make the craziness complete.

* * *

Here I would like to thank everyone who reads my works, thank you.

Here it must also be said that in the tale "A Two Colour Chain Mail," we started the vote based on the fact that Sean Bean and David Wenham made the perfect image of two brothers. We also got plenty of agreement on that.

So here it is, if you agree with us and think that they should be real brothers. Say so in your review. It shall be your vote. On my authors page, in the bio I shall keep score. When the score reaches 100, they shall be declared official brothers. Then on my authors page shall be an official declaration written by Elenhin and Celebrion

Then the truth can not be denied, they shall be brothers.


End file.
